Pain
by DustyDreams
Summary: The new man of the Puckerman household discovers Puck and Kurt are in a relationship and decides to teach them that homosexuality is pain. Really dark.
1. Chapter 1

Author Note: WIP from the Glee Angst Meme

Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Homophobia, Angsty Angst...

Disclaimer: The only character I own is the rapist... and I stake no real claim.

"No, no, no, no! Oh, come on!" Puck tosses his video game controller onto his bed and collapses against the pillows. "You cheated."

"I am offended by the accusation!" Kurt's indignant glare is betrayed by the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"So, I'm supposed to believe you mastered Mario Kart in the four months we've been dating?"

"Four-and-a-half, and it's really not that difficult a game."

"Not that difficult, eh?" Puck's eyes turn predatory. He pounces, shoving Kurt down on the bed and landing on the smaller boy, chest-to-chest.

"Noah Puckerman, are you trying to kill me?" Kurt's laughing, so it couldn't have hurt that much.

"Maybe just ravish you a bit." Puck nips at Kurt's lower lip, then brings it into his mouth and _sucks_.

Just like that, Kurt's putty in Puck's arms.

Kurt's hips bounce of their own accord into Puck's thigh as his unrestrained moan reverberates around the room.

"You like that?" Puck knows his boy's body well, and before Kurt has a chance to respond, Puck latches his mouth onto Kurt's favorite spot just below the ear.

Kurt yelps, grasping at any and every bit of Puck he can get his hands on. He's tugging at clothing now, wanting it _gone_.

"Fuck, you're hot like this." Puck loves getting his boy frantic. He pulls off his own shirt, then slowly, torturously, unbuttons Kurt's.

Kurt wants to protest, but he values his clothes, and the frustration has him whining and writhing.

As the last button comes loose, Puck dives his tongue into Kurt's belly button.

Kurt cries out, his hips bucking with abandon, "Noah, _please_!"

Puck chuckles, "What do you want, Baby?"

Kurt moans, "Anything. More. You."

Puck drags his palm over the bulge in Kurt's pants.

"Yes! Yes! That! More!"

"It's okay, Love. I've got you." Puck unzips Kurt's trousers and pulls them down the slim, pale legs, discarding them on the floor.

Kurt's opened shirt follows before Puck plants a gentle kiss to the crook of each elbow.

Kurt is left panting in a pair of maroon boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination.

"Noah...want you..."

Puck leans down to kiss the sweet, pleading lips.

The bedroom door slams open, "What the hell!"

Puck has launches himself off the bed and positioned himself protectively between Kurt and the doorway before it even registers who is standing there.

"Isaac! I...thought you were out with Mom."

Fuck, fuck, fuck! They've been caught. Months of keeping it a perfect secret from nearly everyone, and they are caught by his mother's boyfriend in about the most compromising position possible.

The man is still just staring, so Puck continues, "Look, Isaac, I-"

"Are you a fag, Noah? Are you a fucking fag?"

Noah flinches. He knows that word is hurtful, and he knows he is not the one feeling the pain. Puck glances behind him.

Kurt has his knees tucked to his chest, trying to hide his near-nudity. His lower lip is trembling and his eyes have that far-off stare that means he's trying not to feel.

This is everything they've dreaded.

Puck is tugged toward the door by his wrist and he hears a click. He has just enough time to realize he's handcuffed to his desk before Isaac pushes past him, standing just out of reach and staring Kurt down.

Puck tests his restraint, clanging metal against metal. "Isaac, what the-"

Isaac pulls a gun from his waistband and Puck freezes. '_Oh, God..._'

"No fag is going to live under my roof." Isaac shoves the barrel of the gun into Kurt's temple.

Kurt screams.

"No! No, please don't kill him! Please! Please! Please!" Puck collapses face-first into the carpet. He knows he needs to be strong for Kurt, to fucking _do_something, but he can't look, can't let himself see _that_.

Instead of the bang that would destroy everything, Puck hears Isaac's voice, "You actually think you have feelings for this freak, don't you?"

Puck brings himself to face Isaac, "Yes. Please, just let him go. Please."

"This is worse than I'd thought." Isaac says it like he's learned the batteries are low in the remote, like it's some incredibly trivial thing, and _he's still holding a gun to Kurt's head_. "You need to be taught, Noah. Faggotry is disgusting and wrong."

Isaac turns his attention back to Kurt, "Lay down."

Kurt's eyes widen at the command, but he obeys.

Puck babbles a useless string of, "No, no, no, no, no, no..."

Isaac points at the maroon boxer briefs with his gun, "Take those off."

A silent tear trails down Kurt's cheek as he is completely exposed.

"This is what you are attracted to, Noah?" Isaac grabs Kurt's penis and _squeezes_, causing Kurt to shriek in pain. Isaac continues, "You like dick? You like fairy dick?"

Puck's only response is a shakily whispered, "Please don't do this."

"It is an abomination against the lord."

"It won't happen again. Just let him go."

"I don't believe you, Noah. You have to see for yourself how unnatural it is." Isaac unzips his jeans, and the sounds is loud in the small room.

"No! God, no!" Puck pulls at his handcuffs, kicking at the steel desk leg, bashing his restraint about, trying everything to get free, to stop this.

"Please!" Kurt speaks up for the first time, "I'll leave him alone. I won't touch him. He'll never see me again. He'll go back to normal. You don't have to do this. Please. _Please_ don't!"

"If you fight me, it'll just hurt more."

See the gun and hearing the futility of Puck's struggles, those words were Kurt's last hope. All he's left with are sobs.

Isaac slides on a condom so he can't catch the gay, and adds a little spit.

Kurt realizes that is all the lubrication he is going to get. This is going to _hurt_. Kurt sobs just a little bit harder.

Isaac shoves Kurt's legs apart, and the prone boy's only resistance is the tiniest of whimpers.

Kurt turns his head away from the visuals of his own rape and finds himself facing an utterly defeated and terrified Puck.

Puck notices Kurt looking at him and wants desperately to be able to help. There is nothing he can do to stop this, though, so he just has to settle for being there for Kurt while it happens.

He locks eyes with his boyfriend and mouths, "I love you."

Isaac slams in, and Kurt's screaming, and it's happening. It's actually fucking happening. Kurt is being raped right before his eyes, that gun's once again pressed against his temple, and Puck can't do a god-damn thing about it. He's a badass! He should be able to fix this, gun and handcuffs be damned.

Handcuffs can be picked!

Puck scrambles around the floor looking for something, anything, he can use to pick the lock. He doesn't dare open a drawer for fear of alerting Isaac to his plan, but his floor is spotless, and _damn it, why does his mother have to keep his room so clean_!

He looks back at Kurt and sees he's been watching him, sobbing tears of agony and humiliation as a small cry matches each of Isaac's movements, and Puck realizes with a stab of guilt that he'd broken his silent promise; he wasn't there for Kurt. There is nothing he can do to prevent what has already happened. He can only wait out the painful experience with Kurt and hope it doesn't get worse.

'_Please, God, don't let him die!_'

He locks eyes with Kurt. The small boy reaches out to him, and even though there is no way they can touch, Puck reaches back, equally needing the contact.

"You see this, Noah?" Isaac's fucking talking again. "You see how much pain the bitch is in? That's because this is unnatural. Does this look like what the lord intended? He made it hurt so man wouldn't attempt such an abomination. Do you ever want to feel this pain, Noah? Faggotry is pain."

The speech does nothing but anger Puck more, but it seems to have a far more powerful effect on Kurt, whose eyes are now shut in a refusal to meet Puck's.

'_No, Kurt_,' Puck silently pleads, '_don't listen to that bastard. Just focus on me_.'

Kurt is lost to him now.

Without the distraction of Kurt's gaze, Puck is inundated with far worse images. Kurt's small frame is slammed back with each thrust, his legs bouncing helplessly mid-air. His fingers rake at the sheets, trying to dig or drag his body from the pain. Isaac's finger is close, too close, to the gun's trigger, and one slight twitch, and Kurt's life could accidentally end in the middle of its most horrible moment.

Then, the smell hits him: blood. '_Kurt is being ripped apart_.' He can't stop the brain from supplying the answer, and it somehow actually makes this all_worse_.

That's _his_ Kurt. That's his fashion-obsessed, bitchy, caring, proud, awesome at Mario Kart boyfriend, and nothing like this should ever happen to him.

"Isaac!"

That's his mother's voice!

Isaac seems to have this same realization, because he's pulling out of Kurt and shoving himself, condom and all, back in his pants, "Rebekah! I caught these two fornicating and they had to be shown the error of their ways." He tucks his gun innocently back in his waistband.

Puck lets himself believe as he once always did that his mommy can solve everything.

Her first step is a good one: "Get out of my house."

Isaac, not receiving the support he for some reason thought he would, levels a glare at Rebekah, "Your son is a fag."

Nobody moves until they hear Isaac's truck drive off.

Kurt is shaking and crying and bleeding and Puck's _still in these fucking handcuffs_.

"Mom, he needs me," Puck indicates his restraint.

Rebekah is confused for a moment, or just still reeling from what she witnessed only minutes ago, but she springs into action. She detaches her nametag from her uniform and hands it to her son, showing the safety pin fastener.

"Noah, I am so sorry. I had no idea..."

Puck picks the lock almost immediately and races to his bed. Then, he has to pause. "Kurt?" he asks tentatively.

Kurt doesn't open his eyes, only whimpers a distressed, "Noah!" and Puck has decided that is all the permission he needs. He collapses onto his bed and pulls Kurt to his chest as he drags a quilt over the shivering form.

Rebekah is still kneeling beside Puck's desk, unsure.

"Mom, can you bring me a pair of dark sweat pants and two T-shirts?"

Rebekah again leaps into action, laying the items on the bed. "Do you...?"

"I can get him dressed."

Rebekah nods as if understanding some important point. Then, she panics, "Oh my God, where is Sarah? She called, said something bad was happening, begged me to come home. Sarah!"

"Mommy?" the small girl responds from her room down the hall.

"I'm coming, Sweety!"

"Mommy, are Kurt and Noah okay?"

Puck and Kurt are left alone with the realization that little Sarah Puckerman had overheard the whole thing. It doesn't even make it worse. They are as low as they can go.


	2. Chapter 2

Puck rubs soft circles into Kurt's back, hoping to relax him and keep him here and present at the same time.

"Kurt, I got some clothes here for you. They're really baggy, so they shouldn't hurt you. Do you need help putting them on?"

Kurt doesn't respond, which Puck takes as a "yes."

"Okay, pants first."

Puck hopes narrating helps. He pulls back the quilt and lifts Kurt's leg by the ankle.

Kurt yanks his limb back in a full-body flinch.

Puck lays his hand on Kurt's cheek, "Hey, it's okay. Just me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm putting your clothes on so I can get you out of here. Okay?"

Kurt offers a tiny nod.

Puck slides the sweats up above Kurt's knees, and then he comes face-to-face with it: the growing blood stain between pale thighs.

For a moment, it's too much for him and he begins to break down again. No. He's done that too many times. He's failed Kurt too many times. He can't fail him now. Kurt needs help. Kurt needs him.

Sliding an arm under the trembling back, Puck lifts the smaller boy to his chest and gently slips the sweats all the way on.

He's not sure if the fact that Kurt's no longer responding is a bad sign.

"Shirt next." 'Just keep talking to him.'

A hand to the small of Kurt's back keeps him sitting upright on the bed with pain etched into his face.

'Do this fast, Puckerman,' Noah coaches himself as he slides an oversized T onto the boy and lies him back against the pillows.

He slides his own shirt on as his mother returns, somehow sensing the need for a next step.

"Noah?"

"Mom, he's bleeding a lot."

"We need to get him to a hospital."

'Yeah. Yeah, of course.' Puck feels the need to fill Kurt in, so he kneels before the boy's ear and whispers, "We're going to take you to the hospital. I know it's, like, fucking scary, but I'm going to hold your hand the whole time and they're going to help you."

Kurt chokes out one word: "Dad?"

"N...no, it's me. Noah."

"I want my dad."

"Okay, okay. We'll call him and he'll meet us at the hospital."

Kurt's eyes fly open and scream of desperation, "I need him now. Take me home, please!"

"Shhh, okay. We'll take you home."

Kurt relaxes.

"Can you walk?"

It takes a while before Kurt can admit he can't.

"That's okay. I can carry you."

Kurt doesn't resist.

Puck turns, Kurt in his arms bridal-style, to see his mom still in the doorway.

"I'll drive."

"To his home?" Puck hopes respecting Kurt's wish is the right thing to do here.

"Yeah," Rebekah's smile is sad but comforting, "to his home."

"Mommy?" Sarah's in the doorway now.

"Sarah, I told you to go to Mrs. Saunders'!"

"Is Kurt okay?" The young girl is not deterred.

"He'll be fine, Bucket," Puck uses his own term of endearment for his sister in hopes of calming her, "You were very brave to call for help."

Sarah doesn't even take the opportunity to be proud. She just keeps her worried gaze on Kurt's prone form.

Rebekah tries again, "All right, you've seen him. Now, go next door."

Sarah is silent and far too grown up as she obeys.

The only sound on the drive over is Kurt's choked sobs, muffled by Puck's chest.

Rebekah is on the walkway ahead, so Puck informs her, "The spare key is under the gray rock."

She gets the door open in time to hold it for her son and his precious cargo.

Burt turns from his perch on the couch to greet his son, and his face falls at the sight of seeing Puck needing to carry him in.

Burt's about to get up to check on his kid, but the familiar smells of home have brought Kurt around and he needs his dad now. With a soft call of, "Daddy!" Kurt launches from Puck's arms and falls into his father's lap, sobs and trembling renewed as he desperately clutches at flanel.

"Kurt?" There's terror in Burt's voice, but his son's alive, so whatever it is, they can get through it. Words are obviously too much for Kurt to handle right now, so Burt turns to Puck in hopes of an explanation.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hummel!" is all the kid can manage.

Fear brings anger, "Damn it, Rebekah, what happened to my son?"

Rebekah is almost afraid to provide the information, unsure how the father will react, "He...was...he was raped."

Burt unconsciously tightens his hold on his boy as he processes the information behind a blank face.

"Kurt?" Burt hopes against hope his son will tell him she was mistaken, that it wasn't that bad, hadn't gotten that far, but Kurt just buries his head further into Burt's neck, whimpering another, "Daddy."

"Oh, Kurt," Burt places a kiss to his son's hair and rubs his back as comfortingly as he can. What else can he do?

"Burt?" Carole calls from the base of the stairs, taking in the scene in the family room.

Burt looks to Rebekah, who nods, "Carole, can we talk in your room?"

The family room is left eerily quiet, with Kurt reduced to sniffles, Burt unable to find the right words to make it better, and Puck watching his boyfriend with tears he isn't even aware of coursing down his cheeks.

Kurt flinches as Carole's horrified, "What?" echoes from upstairs. Burt gives is hair another kiss.

Rebekah returns a few minutes later, obviously having convinced Carole that now is not the best time to shower Kurt with attention.

"Burt, I think we need to take him to the hospital. He was bleeding."

Burt takes a shaky breath as he lets that little fact wash over him. He nods at Puck, asking him to take Kurt.

Kurt senses the movement, "No! Dad!" His arms fly around his father's neck.

"I'm too old to carry you, Buddy."

Kurt doesn't loosen his hold. It brings tears to Burt's eyes.

"Tell you what: we sit here for another five minutes, then Puck carries you to the car, and then I hold you for the ride, okay?"

Kurt thinks for a minute, then nods, "Okay, Daddy."

'Maybe six minutes.'

When Burt relenquishes his son, a piece of his heart goes with him. His little boy came home crying for him. Something terrible happened and he trused his father, his Daddy, to fix it, and Burt just isn't sure he can.

The hospital is a blur of white coat and questions and his son begging him not to leave him. He holds his son's hand the entire time, wishing it were enough.

The Puckermans have to sit in the waiting room and, well, wait.

It's the first time Rebekah has been alone with her son since he was unceremoniously outed, and she needs to say something, "Noah?"

Puck looks up with puffy eyes. 'Has he stopped crying once?'

"You and Kurt are together?" She knows the answer, but she wants to hear it from her son.

Puck has other plans. "We're not doing this now."

"I just don't want you to think-"

"No!"

"Noah, I love you! I don't want you to think differently because of what happened."

That shuts Puck up.

"I just want you to be happy, and if Kurt makes you happy, then I'm happy. I don't think I've ever made that clear to you.

"And, Noah, I'm so sorry I let someone like Isaac into our home, our lives. I'm sorry I let him hurt you boys. I never... I'm sorry I gave you a reason not to trust me."

Never has Puck wished more for his badass shell, but it shattered along with so much else in that bedroom, and it turns out he's just a scared kid underneath. He breaks down, allowing his mother to hold him like he hasn't since the first grade.

"We were happy! It's all over now!"

"No, no, shhh. It's not over. You're here for him; you can get through this together."

"I'm out here. I should be in there with him, but he didn't want me. Mom, what if he blames me?"

"Noah, this is not your fault. He knows that."

"I should have done something!"

"He had a gun."

"I just sat there!"

"Noah, look at your wrist."

He does. How had he not noticed that? The skin is bruised and raw and flaking dried blood. Now that he notices, it hurts like a bitch.

"Noah, you look at that wrist and tell me you didn't try and stop this."

Puck just stares at the damage.

"I know this is going to be hard, Baby, but you and Kurt are the only ones who are going to understand each other about this, and because of that, you two will get each other through this."

Puck hopes his mother is right.

A nurse never retrieves the Puckermans. They just see the Hummels being escorted to the exit and understand it is time to go.

Kurt is clutching his father's hand in both of his own from his wheelchair, as if afraid Burt would run if given the chance.

When Puck arrives, he is greeted by a small smile on Kurt's face, and that counts for something.

When Puck lifts him into his arms at the front entrance, Kurt drops his father's hand and snuggles into the broad chest. Murmuring a soft "Noah," Kurt allows whatever drug they blessed him with to pull him into slumber.

Puck doesn't want to let Kurt go. He thought he'd lost him so many times today, and then Kurt smiled at him and wanted him to hold him and felt safe enough to sleep in his arms, and he can't let that go.

It's all he has right now.

He carries Kurt straight to is basement room and lies down on the queen sized bed, cuddling Kurt's sleeping form to his chest.

Puck presses a kiss to the soft forehead and whispers, "I love you, Kurt," before closing his own eyes.

Burt watches the boys from the top of the stairs before turning back to the nervous woman standing in his living room.

"Is it all right if Noah stays here tonight? I don't want Kurt waking up alone, and he's used to waking up with him."

The obvious fact that Burt was made aware of their relationship long before they even thought to inform her is painful. "How long have you known?"

A smile almost forms, "About a minute more than Kurt. Your son is quite the gentleman, came and asked me permission."

"Kurt's a good influence on him." Rebekah's face falls, "I'm so sorry, Burt!"

"Rebekah-"

"He told you who did it, right?"

"No one's blaming you."

"I am! I brought him into their lives. I left him with them!"

"Reb-"

"Don't waste your energy trying to comfort me. That's not what this is about. I want to help you catch the bastard. I know his name, where he works, his hometown, his mother's god-damned maiden name!"

"Well, thank you."

"And you're going to need the help. Burt, he's a cop. This is Lima, and cops versus homosexuality?"

"Rebekah, we'll get there. Right now, we just need to focus on our boys."

Rebekah is saved from breaking down, and takes a moment to compose herself. "Noah can stay here as long as you'll have him." With that, she leaves.

Burt's not sure what to do with himself after that, so it's a good thing the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Burt, I'm at Finn's football practice and I'm wondering where to go next." Carole's asking if he wants her around or to give them privacy.

"I... Carole, I think I need you... but, Finn..."

"Hey, Sweety?" Carole's voice sounds far away as she addresses her son, "If I give you forty dollars, would you stay with Mike tonight and buy his family dinner?"

The answer is excitedly in the affirmative.

"Problem solved. I'll be over soon."

She is, and Burt finally lets himself fall apart, knowing Carole will pick up the pieces.


	3. Chapter 3

'Shame. Pain. Fear.

Stop! Please stop!

Gun. Noah. Blood.'

"Noah!" Kurt's voice cuts into the night.

Arms hold him close, "Kurt, it's just a nightmare. You're okay. I've got you. You're safe. He can't hurt you."

'Noah.' At the realization of the identity of his soother, Kurt relaxes. 'Noah wasn't shot. Noah's here.' "Noah..."

"Yeah, it's me. Just me."

'For now.' It had been just them before...before it happened, and they hadn't been safe, and there was a gun.

Kurt doesn't want to lose the warmth of his boyfriend's embrace, or the security or happiness or comfort... but he can't let that happen again. Not to Puck. Not because of him.

Kurt pulls away from the strong chest and loving arms.

"Hey, come back."

"Noah, we can't do this."

"What? Hey, you need me to take the couch, I got the couch." Puck leaps from the bed.

"No..." This is harder than Kurt had expected. "No, Noah, we can't do this."

Puck catches on when dread fills his stomach, "Kurt... don't..."

"We can't see each other anymore. Never again. You have to be normal."

The speech instantly brings Noah back to the words Kurt promised to Isaac. But, they were just supposed to be words to make him stop. They weren't supposed to mean anything! Puck racks his brain for anything he might have said that would make Kurt doubt him now.

"Kurt, no, we were lying to him! We didn't mean it!"

"I meant it. You can be normal. You can be happy with women."

"I'm happy with you!"

"You shouldn't be. It's wrong. It gets you hurt. He could have killed you, Noah!"

"And he did rape you! Why are you so worried about me?"

"That shouldn't have happened to you! I'm the fag, not you! I can't be the reason someone hurts you."

"Kurt, this was not your fault!"

"Of course it is!" Kurt collapses into sobs.

Puck takes a step towards him, still wanting nothing more than to comfort him.

Kurt puts a hand out to stop him, "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Just go."

"Kurt, please."

"Get out!"

"I love you."

Kurt's voice is drowning in tears, "You shouldn't."

It takes everything Puck has to obey Kurt's wish as the small boy cries into his pillow.

By the time Puck makes it upstairs, he's crying, too. He wants to just make it out of the house with the sliver of dignity he has left, but of course Burt and Carole are camped out in the living room and of course tragedy to a child has put them in hyper-parent mode, so of course they immediately wake up despite obvious exhaustion and see his tear-streaked face.

Carole rises from the couch, "Noah, what's wrong?"

"Kurt kicked me out." 'I sound pathetic.'

"Oh, Sweety, I'm sure he just needs some time."

"He broke up with me." Puck scours his mind for instructions on how to construct that badass Puckzilla facade he once lived in. He settles for a blank expression, "I'm just gonna' go home...or..." No, not home. Home is where it happened, and he never wants to see his bedroom again.

Carole stands, "Your mother and sister are staying at my place. You are, of course, welcome to, as well. You can have Finn's room. Here, it's practically morning; I'll just drive you over now." She leads Puck to the front door by his shoulder.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

There's no traffic as the sun peeks over the horizon.

Puck looks miserable and the mother in Carole makes her try to change that. "I'm sure he just needs a little time. This is hard for both of you, and he's just trying to cope."

Puck doesn't mean to say it, but he needs to talk to someone and Mrs. Hudson is a mom whom he has known all his life, "He blames himself. He thinks he went and turned me gay and practically ordered me to go back to women."

Carole stores that information for later. "I know it doesn't seem it, but that just shows how much he cares about you. He's putting your welfare before his own, and he's going about it all wrong, I know, but he's doing it for you."

"I don't want it! I want him! Jesus, this is so stupid. He just wouldn't listen!"

"He's stubborn, like his father, but he loves you and he's smart enough to realize that. Just give him time."

'Yeah, time. Heard you.'

The rest of the ride is spent in silence as Puck contemplates the unfairness of it all... and then feels guilty for it.

Upon entering Finn's bedroom, Puck is attacked by a 4 1/2 foot blur of pink.

"Noah! Where were you? I was worried! Is Kurt better?"

Puck picks his sister up and sets her down on the bed, "Shh, Sarah, you'll wake Mom. I was at Kurt's." Puck lies down next to Sarah, fully planning on being asleep in the next minute.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Is Kurt okay?"

"Kurt's... getting better."

"Then why isn't he here?"

"Because Kurt has his own room."

"But, you're always together."

"Not anymore, Bucket."

"Why?"

"I'm going to sleep now."

Sarah curls up into her big brother's side, "Goodnight, Noah."

When Carole returns to the Hummel home, Burt and Kurt are on opposite ends of the couch, staring blankly at the morning news.

Upon seeing his girlfriend, Burt spares his son a quick worried glance before following her into the kitchen.

"Carole, I don't know what to do. He's just sitting there, and I can't hug him if he doesn't ask for it or I might scare him, and that whole thing with Noah-"

"Burt."

He shuts up, praying she has the answer.

"Make waffles."

"...What?"

"Your son needs to eat. He likes waffles. Make him waffles."

"But-"

"I'll talk to him."

The relief has Burt feeling weightless for a moment, "Thank you."

"Add vanilla to the batter." Carole gives him a quick kiss before sitting beside his son.

"Good morning, Kurt."

Kurt's mouth almost accomplishes a smile, "Morning."

"How are you feeling?"

Kurt's eyes darken for a bit before he shrugs. Not well.

Carole takes his hand in hers. He doesn't pull away, instead meeting her eyes with his own. Good sign. Excellent sign.

"Honey, I know I'm not your mom, and I'll never replace the amazing woman who gave birth to you, but I think you could use some mothering right now. You can ask Finn; I'm a great mom. Do you think you could let me mom you, just for a while?"

Kurt's whole demeanor seems to soften and warm, "I think I need a mom right now."

"Good. Can I hug you now?"

Kurt leans into her open arms. Carole holds him for a while, putting as much love and strength into the embrace as she has.

She pulls back just enough to look at the boy. He looks genuinely peaceful.

"Come on. Your dad is making waffles."

Kurt brightens. Waffles are a (not so) secret indulgence he allows himself because they are just too good to pass up and now is a really good time for waffles.

They make it into the kitchen in time to see Burt sloppily pour batter into the iron before shutting it quickly, with an obvious fear that it might actually bite.

He turns to see his son looking significantly better than he had a few minutes ago, and smiles.

Kurt walks up to his dad and hugs him.

Burt only lets himself be surprised for a second before relishing in the feeling of his son still letting him in.

He can not thank Carole enough.

It's summer and the first day without football practice in a week, so Finn doesn't get up until noon. It's another hour before he bothers to check his phone.

He has one text from his mother, which is weird, since she's more the voicemail type. Finn decides his mom is trying to be hip, or however she words it.

He reads the message: "Hey, sweety! Please come to burt's when you get up. We want to talk with you."

Uh-oh. Even though he hasn't actually done anything wrong, he feels the uh-oh.

By the time he reaches the Hummel home, he's prepared an "I Didn't Do It" speech, which pretty much consists of the words "I didn't do it."

His mom and Burt are both on the couch. Carole beckons him over.

It's all happening too fast.

"I didn't do it!" There goes the speech.

"You're not in trouble, Honey. Come sit down."

Finn flops into the chair adjacent to the couch.

Carole continues, "Finn, you know how we've been slowly moving into Burt's home while we're waiting for our's to sell?"

Finn nods. He's aware his mom and Burt had reconciled the family clash after what Finn refers to as "The Time I Yelled At Kurt's Room And Got Kicked Out." He actually feels a lot guiltier than the name would imply.

"Well, for a little while, we'll be staying here and not going back to out house at night."

"Umm, okay... Why?"

"Because the Puckermans are staying there."

Puck. The dude who knocked up Finn's girlfriend, who hit on Rachel because she had a crush on Finn, who had started to spend all his time with Kurt just because he like Finn better, even if it was because of a totally-not-reciprocated crush. Now he gets his house, too? "Puck! Mom, come on-"

"Finn, you need to listen. I know you and Noah have had your differences, and you know I support you 100% with the Quinn thing, but you need to put that all behind you. The Puckermans need a place to stay and they are staying in our house."

"What's wrong with their house?" It's not an argument. There is genuine concern in Finn's voice, and for that Carole is proud.

"Something very bad happened to Noah and Kurt there."

'Kurt? How come no one mentioned him yet? Oh, God, Burt looks really sad.' "Kurt? Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's in his room."

"What happened?"

"I was raped," Kurt is standing in the basement doorway with a totally unreadable expression on his face.

Suddenly Carole feels ten kinds of guilty. She just earned the boy's trust, and here he catches her talking about him behind his back. "Kurt, we weren't going to give him any details. We just thought he should know something happened."

"Now he knows." Kurt doesn't sound sad or angry; he's just...honest. Just like that, his conversation cameo is over and he retreats back to his room.

Carole turns back to her son, who looks like he's seen a ghost...kick a puppy.

"Honey?"

"He was... He was...?"

"Kurt's going through a lot right now and he needs our support."

Finn slowly nods, then turns to Burt, "Can I go see him?"

Burt has to clear his throat before he can speak, "Yeah, sure, just...listen to him. If he says out, you get out of there."

Finn nods again, then embarks on the impossibly long journey to the basement steps. He knocks his knuckles against the banister, "Kurt? Can I come in?"

Finn can't see into the room yet, but he hears the reply, "Why do you feel the need to ask permission?"

"Umm...'cause it's your room."

"Then, yes, you can come in."

Finn descends the rest of the stairs to find Kurt lying atop his covers, staring up at the ceiling.

Finn's not really sure of the protocol, so he just stands by the bed. "Are...are you okay?" 'I'm an idiot.'

"I'm fine, Finn."

Brick wall.

"Well, umm, if you need to, like, you know...talk, you can, with me."

Kurt finally looks at him, "Why?"

"Because sometimes you need to talk."

"Why do you care, Finn?"

"Wha...? Dude, I'm your friend."

"Friends? Finn, we've hardly even seen each other since school let out, and we practically live together."

"That's because you spend all your time with Puck! It's got nothing to do with you."

Kurt's eyes darken, "Well that's not going to be a problem for you anymore."

A horrible thought forms in Finn's mind, "Wait, Puck's not the one who...?"

It takes a bit for Kurt to mentally finish Finn's sentence, "No! He would never do that to me. He likes women."

"Okay, good. But, if he had, I'd have totally kicked his ass for you, you know."

"Do not use this to settle your childish rivalry!"

"I'm sorry! Shit, I didn't mean it like that. I meant anyone- anybody hurts you- you just tell me... I'll kick their ass. I... I just want to help." Finn looks down at his hands folded in his lap.

Even though the Finn Crush exists only in a memory, Kurt can not resist the Nervous Finn Look. He places his hand on Finn's, "Thank you."

Finn meets his eyes, adorably hopeful, "You'll let me help?"

Kurt can't help but be touched by the open enthusiasm. "I think a few hours of mindless video games would help."

That is something Finn can handle. "Is my console still hooked up to your TV?"

"I haven't touched it since you had Matt over."

"Awesome!"

Killing zombies actually makes Kurt feel better.

Carole, in her expert role as mother, ensures both her little post-apocalyptic sharpshooters are well-fed on more of Kurt's "secret" favorite food: steak tacos, strawberry parfaits, and cinnamon hot chocolate.

The gesture doesn't go unnoticed, and she finds herself on the receiving end of more Kurt hugs than she'd gotten since meeting the boy.

While Finn is taking yet another bathroom break (cocoa flies through that boy like a jet), Burt brings down a blanket and pillow and plops them onto Kurt's bedroom sofa.

Kurt assumes it's for Finn until the man gets comfortable.

"Uh... Dad?"

"Carole hogs the sheets." Burt hopes the tossed out excuse will make this possibly embarrassing arrangement easier for his son to accept.

"Dad, you don't have to sleep down here."

"I know. I just don't want you to be alone."

"But, your back, and Finn's here..."

"I don't think you want Finn here when you wake up from a nightmare."

Kurt doesn't want anyone here when he wakes up from a nightmare. "Dad, if I wake up from a nightmare, I don't want a man in my room."

Burt is stricken by the comparison made between him and his son's rapist.

"I'm sorry! Dad, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

"Dad, I- I don't think of you that way!"

"Hey, Kiddo, you don't have to explain. It's okay." Burt gathers up the bedding.

He gets to the stairs and turns around, "Just, you know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

That does it. Kurt can't hold back the sob, "Yes, Dad!"

"Good. I won't." Burt continues up the stairs.

"Dad...I..." 'Wait!'

Burt drops the bedding on the steps and returns to his crying child. He wraps his arms around him in a gentle hug, "I love you, Kurt. We'll get through this. I promise."

Kurt squeezes back with all his strength, and if it's a little difficult for Burt to breathe, he doesn't mention it.

And then Burt's gone.

Kurt collapses to his bed, feeling like a pile of wretched guilt.

When Finn emerges from the kitchen with a late night snack, he notices a blanket and a pillow on the living room couch. No one has actually told him where he was going to sleep, or even where his stuff is, so Finn figures he must be assigned that spot. It's probably also bedtime, since his mom and Burt are nowhere to be seen, but what teenager keeps track of that on vacation?

Oh, yeah, Kurt does.

Finn feels he should at least say goodnight, since they'd parted in the middle of a game and all. He manages to eat and descend the stairs at the same time, so when he finds Kurt sobbing into his comforter, when he'd been totally fine just five minutes ago, all that his mouth can produce is, "Wha wah?" The concern on his mustard-stained face would be enough to translate the mumble into "What's wrong?" if Kurt were actually looking, but he refuses to remove his face from his bed.

"Perfect timing!" Kurt isn't even sure if he's mad.

Finn takes intentionally loud steps the rest of the way into the room to be sure not to sneak up on the shaking form.

Kurt hears him make his way to their paused game. "Finn, I'm really not up for playing right now."

"I know. I'm turning it off so you can go to sleep." A few clicks and the room loses its eery blue glow.

"Good night, Kurt. Feel better."

Finn was being really sweet, and Kurt's tired of feeling guilty.

Finn is tall, taller than most couches can accommodate, so he can't achieve a nice, deep sleep. Normally, he can sleep through a parade (and has actual supporting evidence), but now he's waking up to every little sound: the refrigerator motor kicking on, wood creaking as the house settles, two cats fighting down the street... and a scream.

Kurt's scream.

Finn is halfway down the stairs when he sees Kurt, in bed, alone, just having a nightmare.

The terror is replaced by such relief Finn stumbles down the last few steps. By now, his mind has caught up with him. Is waking Kurt up a good idea? Will it just scare him more?

But, he looks so miserable...

Still asleep, Kurt slips a hand from his mangled sheets and reaches out to Finn.

That decides it.

Finn kneels by Kurt's bed, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and grasps the offered hand. "Kurt, wake up!"

"Noah!" Kurt's eyes don't open.

'Noah?' Well, that's a surprise. Then Finn remembers his mother saying something had happened to both of them. Puck had been there, too...

Not important right now.

Kurt lets out a scared whimper and strengthens his hold on Finn's hand.

Finn places his other hand on Kurt's shoulder and shakes, "Dude, it's okay! You're asleep! Wake up!"

Kurt's eyes fly open, but his nightmare lingers. He launches himself off the bed and onto Finn's lap in escape before his environment fully materializes.

Finn lets out an "Oof," but to his credit, he catches the boy.

Kurt's legs are still tangled in the sheets, and he's trapped, and he knows he's safe by he's still scared, so he just cries.

At first, Finn's a little too shocked to do anything. He holds Kurt to him like he's a football Finn didn't know had been passed to him, and now he's got to go for a touchdown, and he's the quarterback so he's not really used to this...

But Kurt's crying, so he has to do something.

"Hey, it's...uh... It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You can stop crying."

Kurt covers his face, "I really wish I could."

"D-do you want me to get your dad?"

"No!" Kurt works at steadying his breathing. "I'll be fine. I just..." He struggles with the Egyptian cotton vice around his legs.

Finn calmly slides it from the frustrated limbs, freeing the boy.

"Thanks," Kurt's voice catches in what could be a laugh but is probably just a sob.

Finn is still holding Kurt in a one-armed hug. "No problem."

Now Kurt just feels ridiculous, "I'm sorry, Finn. I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have-"

"You want back in bed?"

Kurt nods and Finn helps him stand. He sits on the edge of his bed, winces, and leans on his side.

Finn notices, "Did I hurt you?"

'When I fell on you?' No, I'm still just...sore."

'This can not get more mortifying.'

"You called out for Puck."

'Well played, Universe.' "Huh?"

"You said 'Noah' in your sleep."

"Oh."

"Umm... Kurt?"

'Please don't ask about it. Please don't ask about it. Please don't ask about it.'

"Was...did... You don't have to tell me anything about... but... I know you said he wasn't the one who... but, was Puck also... Did they do it to Puck, too?"

"No," Kurt answers as soon as Finn finally makes sense, "they didn't touch him."

"Good," Finn sighs. Then, "I mean, it sucks, what happened, totally, but good that... umm..."

"I'm glad Puck wasn't hurt, too."

"Yeah, that. I just, you know, still wish you weren't and all."

"Thanks, Finn."

"So, are you feeling better?"

"Much."

"Well, good night."

That hadn't been so bad.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much, all of you who reviewed! It makes writing fanfiction so much more fulfilling when I get feedback.

The Puckermans are called into the police station the next day to give their statements. Procedure moves slowly in Lima, but at least they have the good grace to make sure Isaac is out on suspension under suspicion of a crime before bringing in his accusers.

They are sitting in a small interview room before a desk, Sarah in Rebekah's lap, when a cheery young female officer walks in with a stack of forms.

"Good morning and thank you for your time. I'm Officer Lora Davies and I'm handling your case. I have some standard forms here, so we can just start when you're ready. Do you have any questions?"

"Does my daughter really have to be here?"

"Mo-o-om!"

"Mrs. Puckerman, we will be taking her statement first and then you can take her into the other room."

"Mom, I don't wanna' leave Noah alone." Sarah drops from her mother's lap with an angry stomp and pouts her lip.

There is a momentary standoff in which Officer Davies offers to get them coffee in order to let them sort themselves out.

"Sarah," Rebekah barely looks like she can handle this, "Noah needs to speak with the officer. We'll just be down the hall."

"But-"

"I don't want to have this argument."

"Bucket?"

Sarah spins to her brother, who beckons her into his lap. She climbs up and lays her head against his chest.

Noah continues, "It's sweet that you want to be here for me, but I'm going to have to tell the police a lot of bad stuff that I don't want you to hear."

"But, I was there! I already heard it!"

"God, don't say that. I... It kills me that you heard that." Puck needs to take a moment to calm himself, then brings home his point, "Mom is trying to do the best by both of us here. After you answer the officer's questions, I want you to go with her, and no fussing." He taps her nose to lighten the scold.

Sarah slides off her brother's lap and returns to her mother's. She wraps her little arms as far around Rebekah's waist as they will go, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't fuss."

Rebekah kisses her daughter's head and turns to her son, "Thank you."

Officer Davies returns, mysteriously coffee-less, and tidies her stack of papers. When she sits, her face isn't much higher than Sarah's, which might be the point.

"Hello, Sarah. Are you ready to talk about what happened on Friday?"

Sarah nods solemnly.

"Okay, I want you to tell it to me like it's a story. Start wherever you need to start, and take your time. I'll listen to everything you have to say, and I'll write it down here. Can you do that for me?"

Sarah nods, and as the silence continues, she realizes it's her turn to talk, "I was playing in my room because Mrs. Kim was sick and we didn't have Brownies. I was supposed to tell Noah to watch me, but he was playing with Kurt and he doesn't like when I bother them. Then they started doing loud kissy-face things, and I was going to play my music, but I heard Isaac get home and he doesn't like music, and then I heard him go into Noah's room and there was a lot of yelling." Sarah stops here, looking sad at the memory.

Puck would feel mortified that not only did his little sister hear him fooling around, but she had a regular plan of action, except she's about to explain her experience of his boyfriend's (he doesn't think "ex" yet) rape, so there is really no ground for that seed of thought to take purchase.

Officer Davies responds, "Did you hear any of the words that were yelled?"

"No, I just heard yells. But, then Kurt screamed, and that's when I called Mommy."

"You were very brave to do so. I'm going to show you a group of photos. Only you get to see them, okay? I need you to come up to the desk."

Sarah does, and looks down at the indicated photos, a frown forming on her sweet face.

'Sarah, could you tell me which one of these men is Isaac?"

The young girl points at the leftmost image on the bottom row, "That's him."

"You've done very well, Sarah. You're all done. Thank you very much." Officer Davies turns her attention to Rebekah, "You can take her to the break room now. It's four doors to your left. Please shut the door when you leave, and if you need anything, Officer Paul is working in reception."

Rebekah puts a hand on her son's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"

Puck nods once, "I'm good, Mom."

"Okay. Come on, Sarah. I'll buy you something from the vending machine." With that, Puck is alone with the officer.

He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable about what he's going to have to re-live.

Officer Davies offers an encouraging smile, "This is the hardest part, but it's the part that ensures you get the best possible outcome. Like I told your sister, you take all the time you need, and I'll just listen and take notes."

It takes over an hour for Noah to list every detail. He breaks down three times, but when he's done, he's finally not the only person to know exactly what he experienced, and that means a lot.

Kurt wakes up knowing it's Sunday: the last day of the weekend, the day before the workweek, the last day with his dad's around-the-clock protection. He hasn't even realized how important that was to him until he is faced with losing it. To cope, Kurt decides to soak up as much Dad time as possible while he has him.

For a second day in a row, Kurt skips his skin-care regimen and finds his dad in the kitchen.

"Morning, Kurt! I was just planning breakfast. Any requests?"

"I could make omelets."

"Oh, you don't have to cook."

"Okay, can you make omelets?"

"I can make waffles."

"We had those yesterday. Here, I'll show you how to make omelets."

"Sounds good to me."

Bonding experience achieved.

Kurt lets his dad give folding the omelets a try, so they end up looking less like half-circles and more like burritos, but they taste the same and both Hummels are laughing, so breakfast is a definite success.

They move into the living room, a weekend morning ritual, to find Finn still snoring on the couch, one leg over the armrest and the other propped on the coffee table.

"How does he do that?" Burt laughs.

"The sleeping past breakfast or the finding comfort in such an awkward position?"

"Both."

"He's a normal teenage boy."

Burt pulls his son into a half-hug, "I guess I just lucked out to get a kid who doesn't waste half his day in bed."

Kurt leans his head into his dad's shoulder in appreciation, "Yeah, but now that we have inherited such a kid, how will we watch our morning news?"

"Oh, I think the bedroom TV will give us our 'Wake Up, Ohio' if we ask it nicely enough."

Burt leads them upstairs to his room.

"Where's Carole?"

"Carole gets up earlier than we do. She went grocery shopping just before you found me in the kitchen."

"Ah, no doubt getting more of that fattening food I can't seem to turn down."

"You know she just does it because she loves you."

"I do. Dad, I know I was technically the one to set you up and all, but thanks for being with Carole. She makes a really great addition to our family. Finn too, but don't tell him I said so."

The Hummel men make seats for themselves with pillows against the headboard and tune into their favorite newscaster. As Susie Cornbow introduces the third story, their posture becomes more of a lazy lean as their pillows slide down the polished wood.

Susie drawls on about a pharmacy scandal and a new diet craze, then moves on to a report about a gun being found in an elementary school playground.

It's unloaded, unyielded, and just a picture on the god damn screen, for goodness sake, but it triggers something in Kurt, and he'll find the irony of that phrase hilarious _later_.

His breath quickens, and he's just not getting enough air. It's scary, just as scary as that stupid gun. He begins to sweat, his fingers gripping into the sheets. He needs help, now, or he's going to die.

Kurt manages a tiny distressed squeak to alert his father, so maybe he can help him breathe again.

Burt turns in confusion, and his eyes widen when they meet the image of his son, "Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt's panting breaths don't leave room for an explanation. The terror in his eyes is all he can communicate.

"Okay, okay, breathe. In and out. Slow. You can do this."

He can't!

Burt grabs Kurt's chin and brings their faces close, "Follow me. In slow..."

Kurt gasps in a shaky throatful of air,

"Now out."

Kurt exhales, gasps, and finishes exhaling. Better.

"Again. In... Out... In... Out..."

Burt coaches his son until he's_ absolutely sure_ he can maintain his own life.

"You okay there, Buddy?"

Kurt just nods, still not trusting his mouth to do anything but breathe.

"Okay. You were giving me quite the scare there. You want to tell me what that was all about?"

Kurt points to the TV, which is now showing an image of a county fair.

Burt turns to the TV, knows the answer is no longer there, and faces his son again with all the patience in the world.

"You need something to help? Water? Paper bag? I can go-"

Burt is cut off when his son's body slams into his own. Kurt wraps his arms around Burt's waist and holds tight, still breathing like it's a chore.

"Okay, I'll stay right here." Burt rubs his kid's back, which turns into breathing assistance as he moves up Kurt's back when he needs to inhale and down when he needs to exhale, "This helping, Kiddo?"

Kurt nods and his grip on his father slackens. "The gun."

"What gun?"

"The one on TV. No, not that gun. The gun _he_ had."

Burt only refers to Isaac with the vague pronoun, as well, so he follows, "I remember you told the police he had a gun."

Kurt nods, "I just- I forgot what he did with it. I've been focusing on how he could have killed Noah, I forgot what he actually did with the gun. Dad, he was going to kill me. He had it to my head; he almost did it!" Kurt has to school his breathing again.

Burt grasps his son under the knees and shoulders and cradles him to his chest. Somehow, in a hospital interview that had seemed _so fucking thorough_, Kurt had left out the majority of the gun details, and now Burt gets to deal with terror renewed. He almost lost his baby, and with all the _horrible_ things that happened to Kurt, that brings the most fear to Burt's heart.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to, but I was so sure..." Kurt sounds defeated.

"You didn't. You're here, you're safe, you're with people who love you."

"I love you, too, Dad. I'm glad I got to see you again."

"Hey, we've got lots more years ahead, you watch."

Kurt nods against his chest.

The front door opens and Kurt tenses.

Burt understands his son's fear, "Carole, is that you?"

The voice that responds up the stairs is low but strong, a compromise between letting Finn keep sleeping and announcing her presence, "Yes, it's me, and I come bearing tapioca pudding."

Kurt groans into Burt's chest, "She wants me fat."

Burt laughs. One minute his kid is in a hysterical panic, and the next he's cracking a joke. Okay, he can keep up.

The news ends, and Carole probably needs help with the groceries, so it makes perfect sense that the Hummels would leave the room now. That means separating, and being held makes Kurt feel safer, and this is his dad, and it's his last day with him...

"Dad? Can we... stay for a while... like this?"

Burt's throat is a little tight when he responds, "Sure, Kurt."

That's how they are when Carole walks into the room ten minutes later. She hesitates by the doorway, not wanting to disturb this tender moment, but when Kurt reaches a hand to her and smiles, she feels far too welcome not to join in.

Carole leans against what had been Kurt's pillows and Kurt reaches forward and grasps her hand. It's sweet and wonderful and Carole has never felt like more of a part of this family than right now.

"Hey, Mom-For-A-Week."

Carole smiles, "I'm your Mom-For-As-Long-As-You'll-Have-Me."

Kurt's smile grows, "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Sweety."

"I give you control of the remote," Kurt indicates the device by his hip, "but I warn you, if anything golf-related shows up on that TV, you will be faced with Double Hummel Scorn."

Burt and Kurt give identical "You'd Better Believe It" looks that have Carole dying. "No golf! I promise! Now, I don't agree with much of what your father watches, but I know something you and I can agree upon." She chooses DIY, where they are currently renovating a master bedroom.

Kurt gasps and makes a sound very similar to a squeal, "Makeovers!"

Burt smiles gratefully at his girlfriend. Anything that makes Kurt happy right now is golden.

They make it through three room "makeovers," cuddling close and quietly smiling, before Burt interrupts, "So, Kurt, I'm thinking about tomorrow. I've got the rep from the city coming in to discuss school bus repair, but I was figuring you could come into working with me, hang out with the cars, click around on the computer..."

"I'm not willing to put up with DOS."

"It's not that old!"

"Dad, I just don't think I can be around strangers yet."

Burt's face falls into something like guilt or remorse, "Well, then, I'll just take the day off."

"Dad, you just said you had an important meeting. The city is a major client."

"Well, that was before I knew you wouldn't be there."

"You can leave me home. I'll be fine."

"I know that, I've just liked spending all this time with you."

Kurt gives him a look.

"I have! Fine, I _also_ don't want to leave you alone. Carole has work and Finn has football. There won't be anyone here for you."

Kurt nods, considering his father's point. It's hard to get high and mighty about such things when not two hours ago you needed help just breathing. "I'll call Mercedes. She's coming back from the Jones 4th of July Weekend / Family Reunion / Great Grandmother's Birthday Barbecue tonight."

"That's a great idea. I like Mercedes. Call her tonight to make sure she'll be here in the morning."

Carole squeezes Kurt's hand, "Are you going to tell her?"

Kurt frowns, "I don't know. She's my best friend, but it would be nice to have one person who doesn't know, who treats me like they used to."

Carole nods, looking at their linked hands and Burt's arms wrapped around the boy protectively. She understands. "Just remember that she loves you and she won't judge."

Kurt nods. That is all true.

"I broke up with Noah." Kurt doesn't even know the words are coming until they are out of his mouth.

Both parents just nod.

"You knew."

Two nods again.

"How?"

Carole answers, "We were in the living room when you kicked him out."

Kurt looks ashamed, so Carole adds, "Honey, you were doing what you felt you needed to do. Being true to yourself is important."

"I don't know what I need. I just... it was too much."

"That's fine. Today, it's too much. Tomorrow, maybe it will be easier."

"Mom?" Finn calls from somewhere downstairs.

"Oh, I should go see what he's up to," Carole starts to pull away.

"We're up here!" Kurt beckons.

Carole stills, "Are you sure?"

Kurt nods, "Family time."

Finn's long legs bring him to the doorway in seconds, "What's going on here?"

Kurt raises the hand he has locked with Carole's, "I have commandeered your mother."

Finn grins, "Yeah, but I've already eaten three of your pudding cups."

Kurt mock-gasps as Finn slides between Kurt and Carole, laying his head on his mother's shoulder and bringing up his knees to keep his feet off the ground.

"Nice trade, Darling Son of Mine," Carole taps his forehead. "And, you leave the rest of those for Kurt."

"What are we watching?" Finn picks up the remote and immediately changes the channel.

Family time.

When Puck arrives back at home, he is more broken than he had been. He feels like he's lost everything, and he knows he's being overly dramatic, but damn it, why did he have to lose Kurt? He can handle everything so long as he has Kurt. 'God, I'm such a girl.'

He raids the Hudson kitchen for sweet release, but apparently Carole doesn't believe in self-medication.

Checking his wallet for his fake ID, Puck heads out to the nearest bar. 'It's the middle of the afternoon on God's day of rest. Definitely time for this Jew to get drunk.'

There's no real need for his fake ID. The bartender knows him, or at least the twenty-three-year-old him, and has a Natty on the counter before he even sits.

It's good to be home.

Five beers later, a limitation placed on him by his wallet and not his liver, he's getting hit on my some bottle-blonde MILF who likely spends every Sunday holding onto a barstool.

His first instinct is to blow her off. He's been a committed man for a while and the behavior has become ingrained. Then, he remembers Kurt telling him he needs to be with women. Maybe this is his chance. 'Get with Botox, have a terrible time, convince Kurt I did what was asked, get Kurt back.'

"Hey, Hotstuff, you live around here?"

Here's his chance. "Nah, just passing through." The perfect one night stand line.

She grins and extends her hand, "Same here. Name's Kat."

"Puck," he shakes her hand.

"Like a hockey puck?"

"Like where are you staying?"

"Ooo, a man who knows what he's after. I can't remember the name of the hotel, but I can show you."

She grabs Puck's hand and leads him to the parking lot. She's a little more forward than Puck is used to, but he's not all that into this, so he probably needs her to be.

Kat drives a Corvette. Unexpected, considering she is so poorly put together, but that might just be the booze. If Puck were more sober, he might have reconsidered letting a drunk drive him around, but they arrive at the hotel, so... crisis averted!

She grabs his hand again and leads him to her room.

She's impatient, kissing him soundly before sticking her key in the hole.

Puck trips over the threshold, allowing Kat to easily tug him into the bed.

Both of their shirts are on the floor in an instant and it's all moving really fast, so Puck just goes on instinct.

Her bra is easy to unhook and her breasts are warm and full in his hands. She moans, grasping at his sculpted biceps and washboard abs.

Kat slide her own jeans down her thighs and Puck can smell her arousal. He slips his fingers under red silk to find slick heat. He runs his fingers over her, watching her back arch as he stalls to give himself a chance to harden.

He swirls his index finger around her entrance before plunging in.

Kat screams.

Kurt had screamed.

Puck freaks.

He retracts his hand and is across the room before he shouts, "Shit, did I hurt you?"

Kat just laughs, "No, Baby, it felt good." Her voice turns into a purr, "I'm a screamer."

Suddenly, this isn't the brilliant idea Puck thought it was. He's in a hotel room with a stranger whom his fingers now smell like, and Kurt may have dumped him but this still feels like cheating and why would Kurt want him back now? 'Fuck!'

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go." It's about as polite as Puck can be as he grabs his shirt and runs from the room, the hotel, his stupid mistake.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you again, everyone, for the reviews! They are appreciated and make me write faster.

It's around dinner time with Finn's stomach growls, which is appropriate. The family had skipped lunch in favor of a Back to the Future marathon in bed.

"I saw a frozen pizza in the freezer."

"Ugh, Finn!" Kurt complains, "Don't mention pizza! It's hard enough to limit my consumption of your mother's cooking; do not bring melted cheesy goodness into this."

Finn slowly moves off the bed, "But, I'm already putting it in the oven."

"Do not make this house smell like pizza!"

"It's pepperoni!" is sung out as Finn runs downstairs.

Kurt follows, "Can we at least have a side salad?"

Carole is about to help with dinner when she notices Burt is making no move to get up.

"You want dinner in bed tonight?" she lightly teases.

"Just... give me a minute." Something is wrong.

Carole shuts the bedroom door, drowning out their sons' argument over baking versus broiling a pizza, and slides back into bed with Burt. She wraps an arm around his middle and places her head on his shoulder where his son's had been. She doesn't need to prompt him.

Burt's emotional dam breaks, "He held a gun to my son's head, Carole. Kurt, he forgot, but he saw a gun on TV and had a panic attack and he couldn't breathe for such a long time, and he was so scared and the next minute he was fine, cracking jokes about how you're trying to fatten him up. He could have died and he was laughing. God, Carole, my baby could have died! He's just a little boy. Why would someone hurt him? Why would they put a gun to _his _head? He's my little boy!" Sobs overtake him, and Carole just holds on.

Then, Burt somehow manages to continue, "He seems okay, right? I mean, he freaked out a little this morning, but for what he's been through, you think he's really doing okay?"

Carole ponders for a moment, "I think that's a question we should have a professional answer."

"Like a shrink?"

"Like a psychologist who specializes in what happened to Kurt. I'll do some research during my lunch break tomorrow, you do the same, and we'll find someone who can help Kurt in the ways we can't."

"Okay. Okay, yeah. I just- I just want my boy to be okay. I just- He just- He said he was going to kill him. He said he put the gun to his head... his little, my baby... He was gonna kill him. He was gonna kill him. My Kurt."

It's these last words Kurt hears through the door, seconds before he's about to knock and ask about salad preferences. It shocks him to his core that his father is crying. His father doesn't cry. He just doesn't, and now he is, and it's all because of Kurt. First with Puck, and now with his dad, Kurt is ruining the lives of those around him.

Not anymore. He has to try harder. They'll see how fine, how happy he is. No one else has to suffer for what he is. No one else deserves that pain.

Mercedes ends up being the one to call Kurt, which by rules of phoning, means she gets to control the conversation. They chat about how active her 103-year-old great grandmother is (riding into the gathering on a motorcycle would have been excessive had she not been a Jones), how dumb her cousins were for using sparklers as wands and setting a sleeve on fire, and how she is now the oldest unmarried member of her family.

It isn't until his yawn signifies the closing of their conversation that he finds an in for his question. "So, 'Cedes, now that you're back in town, I was hoping to see you. Maybe, I don't know, as soon as you wake up?"

Mercedes giggles.

"It's been a while since I've seen my best friend."

"Too long, White Boy. How about we go to the mall and flirt with that cute boy at Barnes & Noble's?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a spa day. I'm sure we could both use the relaxation."

"After my family? Hell yes. Where do you want to go?"

Kurt scoffs, "You think any spa in Allen County is going to have as many products as I do? I promise to give you the best facial of your life in the comfort of my very own basement."

"I'm holding you to that."

"And, I'm being serious about the 'as soon as you wake up' part. I miss my 'Cedes."

"I miss you, too, Boo. I've got to go. I'll call you as soon as my eyes open, I promise."

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

Mission accomplished.

Finn is battling the couch for comfort again when Kurt enters the living room.

Kurt giggles at the gangly sight, then waves him toward the basement, "Come here, I want to show you something."

"What?" Finn follows.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kurt points to the bed.

Finn just shrugs, confused.

Kurt thought it would have been obvious, "I changed the bedding, so you can take the bed. I know that couch can't be comfortable, and I'm smaller, so this just makes sense."

"Uh..." Finn's really uncertain. Shouldn't Kurt be, like, recovering and stuff? Whenever Finn's sick, he likes being in his own bed, and he knows Kurt isn't exactly sick but it's sort of the same...

"Finn, just take the bed."

"But, shouldn't you?"

"I'll be fine on the couch."

"But-"

"Let me do this, please. I feel bad making you have to sleep on the couch."

Finn doesn't remember that being Kurt's fault, and he might argue, except Kurt's already up the stairs, and that couch really doesn't fit him.

Kurt embraces the discomfort. No deep sleep means no REM, no REM means no nightmares, and no nightmares means no waking and worrying his family. They just don't deserve to deal with this.

Kurt knows the hours his best friend keeps, so he is aware he'll get at least two hours to himself after his family leaves.

Carole and Finn leave first. Apparently Coach Tanaka likes to watch the morning mist rise from the astroturf or something.

His father fixes them more waffles and watches his son like a loving hawk all through breakfast.

Kurt uses this to put on his best "I'm Fine" Show.

He eats his full serving, compliments his father's cooking, washes both of their dishes, and gives his father a big post-meal hug.

Burt isn't entirely convinced, "You know, Mack's been itching for some more management responsibilities. He'd just love to meet with a city rep."

"Dad, I'll be fine. Prove to me that you trust my judgment."

"Low blow, Kiddo."

"See? I'm already smart-mouthed and blunt again. If you stay, it's like saying I'm not getting better. Besides, we both know that anything that pulls Mack's head out from under the hood of a car is the bane of his existence. You, Sir, are needed at the garage."

Burt puts up his hands in defeat, "All right, you've made your point. Just... call me every hour, no exceptions, and let me know when Mercedes gets here and if she leaves and don't answer the door for anyone but her, even if it's Finn 'cause he lost his keys again."

Kurt gives his dad another hug, "I'll be fine, Dad. I'm home. I'll call you every hour, even during your fancy meeting, and you can pretend I'm an even fancier client to drive up your price."

Burt doesn't laugh at his kid's joke. He just looks at him seriously, "I love you, Kid. Stay safe and have fun with your friend." And, he's out the door.

Kurt relishes the feeling of solitude he'd been denied since... it happened, and then has himself a little Freakout Fest.

Couch pillows fly everywhere. He screams into couch cushions, then shoves those onto the floor and jumps on them. The couch's backrest is his next victim as he throws punch after punch after punch. Then, to the chair. He grips the armrests until his fingertips are numb, and then shoves it with all his might. The chair tips back, and when it hits the floor, so do Kurt's knees as he's swallowed up by sobs.

His life had been so fucking perfect. He'd made friends, gotten an even bigger loving family, bought all the clothes that could fit in his closet, and had a boyfriend. A boyfriend! In Lima! And, while they couldn't come out to most people, when they were around Burt and Carole, they could be themselves, and when they were alone, they were so in love.

Then it had to all be stolen away. It had been so perfect.

No. It was never perfect. It was wrong from the beginning. Hallmark moments don't happen for fags.

And he turned Puck into a fag. Puck had been normal, and his life may not have been perfect, but it had the potential until Kurt went and ruined it.

Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? Why couldn't he have accepted being along? Why couldn't he have seen he deserved it?

Kurt lets himself cry for most of the hour, letting the guilt and self-loathing wash over him.

Then, he picks himself up, dries his tears, and tidies the living room. He can do this. If he lets it all out in private, he can be exactly what everyone needs him to be when he faces them. He can be okay for his dad.

Speaking of whom, Kurt dials the office line and hears his dad pick up on the first ring.

"Hummel Tire and Lube."

"This is your son, alive and well."

"Thank you for calling. Is Mercedes there yet?"

"No, but I'm sure she'll wake up any minute now. I'm really fine, though."

"What have you been up to?"

Uh... "Reveling in solitude."

"Funny. Okay, your next call comes in sixty minutes."

"Roger."

"I love you, Kid."

"Love you, too, Dad."

It's another half hour before Mercedes calls, and another fifteen minutes before she's knocking on the door.

Kurt opens the door and matching squeals announce their bouncy hear hug. It's been almost a week, and it feels like longer, and Kurt didn't know how much he needed his best friend until now.

"Oh my God, tell me everything about your trip!"

Mercedes laughs, "I did, last night."

"Well, then tell me again! You've made me go too long without the sound of your voice."

Mercedes looks touched, "You, Kurt Hummel, should be telling me about your week. It just ain't possible that someone as fabulous as you hasn't done something bomb."

This sounds like more of an in than it is. They are happy now; Kurt can't ruin this.

"Well, I finally got my hands on that ridiculously expensive under-eye cream."

"Ooo! Did you try it yet?"

"Yes, and let me tell you, it gets rid of any darkness _without _concealer! It's a godsend."

"What are we waiting for? Is the Hummel Salon open for business?"

"You can help me set up," means he hasn't yet.

"Okay. Oh, I also brought over stuff to do pedicures, just in case."

"What would I do without you?"

"Let's never find out," Mercedes leads the way down to Kurt's room and they go about organizing bottles and magical beauty devices.

They start on Mercedes, pulling her hair back and cleansing her pores.

This is the part where they shower each other with compliments: "Your pores are so small!" "I don't even think you need this stuff, but we'll put it on anyway to give you the full treatment." "Your such a magician with concealer." "There's, like, nothing to conceal." You get the point. As wonderful as the products are for their skin, the real benefit from a Kurt/Mercedes Spa Day is the confidence boosting.

Just before they switch positions, Kurt gasps, "I forgot to call my dad."

"Is he busy? You could call him now."

"I was supposed to call him fifteen minutes ago! I'll be right back!"

Kurt runs up and snatches the living room phone, not wanting to be lectured, even via phone, in front of Mercedes.

His dad answers before it even technically rings, "Kurt, this had better be you."

"That's not going to help business."

"Damn it, Kid, what about sixty minutes don't you understand?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. Mercedes is here and I lost track of time."

"Don't scare me like that again. You're calling again in forty-five."

Kurt notices that as worried as his father may have been, it's not like he felt the need to call the house himself. Kurt's about to bring this up, but realizes Burt probably has one of those parental reasons for not calling himself and explaining would likely just anger him further. He settles for, "Okay, Dad."

"You'd better."

"I will."

"And, Kurt?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's fine. Everything is fine."

"All right, well, let me know if it gets less fine."

"I will."

"And you are calling me in forty-four minutes."

"Yes, Dad."

"All right. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Conversation over, Kurt heads back downstairs to Mercedes.

She looks a little worried, "Did you get a hold of him?"

"Yeah, but I have to call him back in forty-five minutes."

"He was busy?"

"He has a representative from the city coming in today."

"Oo, fancy," Mercedes pats the vanity chair, beckoning Kurt to sit.

He complies and his face is pampered.

Mercedes grabs the moisturizing spray and holds it before his face, "Close your eyes."

Kurt blinks them closes, but the silver bottle pointed at his head becomes a gun, and his eyes fly back open.

"Umm, you're going to have to _keep_ them closed."

Nope, not going to happen. "How about we just skip this step?"

Mercedes almost drops the bottle, "Skip this step? You want to skip a step?"

Kurt looks embarrassed. Oh, yeah, Mercedes knows him well enough to find that alarming.

"I haven't seen you in a while, and when I close my eyes I can't see you, so..."

"Yeah, I'm glad you didn't finish that. What is up with you?"

Kurt sighs, "I've just been feeling a little off today. I had this weird dream and it's got me afraid of closing my eyes for too long." That is the first lie he's ever told his best friend.

Mercedes looks less than appeased, "Are you sure that's it?"

Kurt smiles, "I'm fine, 'Cedes." Though he won't admit it yet, that's the second lie.

Kurt manages to call on schedule for the rest of the day, leaving Burt calm enough to research child psychologists in the area for a while before his big afternoon meeting.

By the time the city rep leaves, he's secured a hefty contract for the garage, collected information on eight doctors, and is ready to go home early and be with his kid again. He exits his office to come face to face with a distraught Noah Puckerman.

"Hey, Mr. Hummel."

"Uh, hey, Kid. You okay?" 'Dumb question.'

"Not really."

Burt holds his office door open, "Come on in."

Puck collapses on the old couch along the wall, "I fucked up."

Burt pulls up a chair across from the boy, "Oh?"

"I... just kind of..." Puck closes his eyes to avoid seeing the protective father's reaction, "I cheated on Kurt yesterday."

A hand lands on his shoulder and Puck waits for the shove or the accompanying punch or the something else that is painful, but the hand just lays there feeling... comforting.

"He dumped you, Son. You didn't cheat."

"But I don't feel broken up! I want to be with him more than anything."

Burt pulls his hand back, "All right, then why did you do it?"

"He told me to!"

"Who told you to?"

"Kurt!" A tear falls at the mention of his name.

Burt's eyebrows furrow, "Kurt told you to cheat on him?"

"He said I should date women again and be normal. It was really fucked up."

Burt pats the kid's knee as he processes, "That... does sound fucked up."

"I just, I love him so much, I thought maybe if I did what he said he'd take me back, but I was drunk and so stupid. I just want him back. I need him. I know he's the one who's hurting, and I'm not fucking allowed to need anything from him, but I'm falling apart without him."

Burt is torn between the desire to keep any new stress from his son's tattered existence and the nagging feeling that his son is missing an important healing ingredient and this jock just might be it.

He sighs, "I know this situation is anything but regular, but did you try telling him that?"

"He kicked me out!"

"Well, he's not the only one who has say in who we have over."

Puck looks at Burt hopefully.

"Now, I'm trusting you not to hurt my kid anymore than he's already been hurt. You talk, fine, but no fights or yelling, and I don't think he's really up to comforting you right now." Suddenly Burt feels like he's making the dumbest mistake of his life.

"I just want to remind him I love him and I'll always been there for him if he lets me. The choice is his, and if he tells me to leave, it will kill me, but I'll go. I just feel that, if I need him this much, he must need me."

Burt figures that must have been what was nagging at him and the dread lessens.

"Well, come on, then. I was just ducking out when you came by. I'll drive you over."

Puck stands, wipes away a few tears, and shakes Burt's hand, "Thank you, Sir."

When the pair arrives at the Hummel residence, they hear music coming from the basement. Burt has Puck wait in the living room while he retrieves his son.

He knocks on the basements door, but Kurt can't hear him which means he would have been vulnerable had it been anyone else entering the house.

He opens the door and makes it halfway down the stairs before his son's scream rises above the song.

Burt turns his neck so fast it pops, only to see Kurt had simply been startled by his own entrance.

Mercedes pauses the music, "Sorry if the music was too loud, Mr. Hummel. We didn't know you were home already. We'll keep it down."

"Playing the music that loud is dangerous, especially when I'm not here. You didn't even hear me come in, and I could have been anyone."

Mercedes looks confused at the seeming overreaction, but Kurt bows his head, "Sorry, Dad."

"Just don't do it again. You've got another visitor, Kurt."

Kurt looks nervous, and Burt's not sure if the truth will calm those nerves or just intensify them, but he gives it anyway, "It's Noah."

Mercedes is the first to react, "Puck!"

She was the most difficult person to keep his relationship a secret from, but since he's already lied to her today, it's easy to continue, "He's using me to apologize to Finn. It's all very tragic and sweet in a Julia Roberts film sort of way, but I'm a total sap."

Kurt can tell Mercedes buys his story, but he doesn't miss the disappointment that crosses his father's face at the ease with which he spins it.

"I guess I should let you guys get to scheming. Thanks for the spa day, Kurt," she kisses her best friend's cheek before they all go to the front door together for a proper goodbye.

Puck is still sitting on the living room couch when Kurt finds him. He looks up at Kurt with so much hope and worry that Kurt can't bring himself just repeat his previous sentiments and leave. It doesn't mean he has to welcome the boy with open arms, however. That would sort of defeat the point of dumping him to give him a normal life in the first place.

"What do you want, Noah?"

The stricken look is enough to soften his tone, "I thought I made myself clear-"

"Kurt," Puck interrupts, "please sit down." Puck knows him way too well to let him get away with the "I'm The One Standing So I'm The One With The Power" Play.

Kurt sits in the chair, then, at Puck's pleading look, moves to the couch.

"I'm in love with you, Kurt."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not in love with me. You're straight. What we had wasn't love."

"I don't think you understand how hurtful you're being, but yes, even though you're kind of stomping on my heart here, I love you, and I know you love me.

"Noah, what I do is not love."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm not normal! It's not right! It's not love!"

"Of course it's love! When I look at you and the world feel like a happy place, that's love. When I had the flu and you refused to leave my side, even though you knew you'd get sick too, that's love. When we kiss and there are fucking fireworks, that's love. _We love each other_!"

"It doesn't matter, Noah! Can't you see that? We're not _supposed_ to be together."

"Why? Because of what Isaac said?"

Kurt blanches at the name, but persists, "How about everyone else in this town, in most of this country, most of this planet? How about_ The Bible_, Noah? Huh? Eternal damnation and Hellfire ring a bell? I made you sin!"

"You didn't make me do shit!"

"You'd never been with a guy before me!"

"You still didn't force me into anything!"

Kurt's tone turns pleading, "Just go back to women, Noah. Be happy. Be normal."

"Dude, I tried; it sucked! I just want you!"

Kurt's face falls in shock, "...You... You tried?"

"And it sucked! I don't want women, I want you!"

Kurt can't move past the hurt, "You tried..."

"I did it for you!"

Kurt turns from him, "Please leave."

"Shit, no, please don't kick me out, Kurt. I love you. I need you. Please give me another chance!"

"You have to go now."

"Please just listen to me."

"Get out!"

A tiny sob is squeezed from Puck's throat, but he obliges. He heavily hoists his burdened form and forces himself out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**There is some stuff in here about the Bible. It's not meant to be offensive, as it is my own way of rationalizing a loving God, and I hope you do not take it that way.

Also, I put some spoilers for Wicked in here. You can read the story without that part, so if you still haven't seen the greatest show EVER, skip from "Burt and Carole alternate days off" to "During his first week." That will protect you. I hate getting spoiled, so I understand.**

Burt knows he should send Puck home the moment he hears his son's raised voice, but the words, the self-hatred and poison he'd tried so hard to protect Kurt from, that come spewing forth in that innocent voice keep him frozen in place. He stands in the kitchen, unseen by the unhappy pair, and listens to every word.

He had no idea his son had been hurt this badly, this screwed up in the head by what had been done to him.

Unless... maybe he always felt this way, and the bastard's actions had just solidified the horrid notions.

A kid should never feel like he's going to Hell, not for loving someone, not for wanting to be loved.

The slamming of the front door means his kid is alone now, with _those_ thoughts, and before Burt's even sure it's a good idea, he's in the living room, on the couch, watching his kid sob.

Kurt's face falls to his knees, "Dad, why do I have to be this way?"

The anguished question squeezes Burt's heart. He's immediately taken back to the other times his son had asked the very same question: when he was seven and he came home after being bullied, when he was nine and parents asked him not to play with their sons, when he was twelve and the few girls he spent time with wanted to be with other boys, and when he was sixteen and his first love called him a fag. Burt never had a good answer, just different variations of "Because that's the way you're supposed to be," which obviously never helped because his son is still asking.

He pulls his son to his chest, as he's done so many times these past few days, and kisses his forehead, "I love you, Kurt, and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"But everyone else hates me."

"Carole doesn't hate you. Finn doesn't hate you. Mercedes doesn't hate you. Everyone who actually knows you doesn't hate you."

Kurt doesn't have a response to that, so he just leans into his father's embrace quietly until, "Why did you bring him here?"

"Because I'm an idiot. Because I thought it would help. He really loves you, Kurt."

"No, he doesn't, Dad. He's confused."

"No, Kurt, he loves you."

"He's not supposed to. God, why does no one see this? He's not like me!"

"Right now, you're both hurting, and that's about as alike as you need to be."

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Kid, you can't honestly expect me to believe you. You're crying, you lied to your best friend, you just kicked your boyfriend out as he was declaring his love for you, and don't think I didn't hear every god damn word you told him."

Kurt shrinks in on himself. 'So much for convincing everyone I'm okay.' He feels awful. He's done it to his dad again: pushed his problems onto him. As soon as Carole gets home, he'll be crying into her shoulder and it will be all Kurt's fault.

Burt pulls a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and opens it up, "I did some research today in psychologist who understand what you're going through. I'm taking the day off tomorrow and bringing you to see one of them, and I'm not listening to any arguments from you. I just want you to get better."

Just like that, Kurt is given a second chance: he can go see the psychologist, get better (or at least pretend to), and everything will be okay again.

"I think I'd like that, Dad."

"Good! Good, I'm glad. It was Carole's idea, so why don't we wait for her to get home to work on that, and right now we can make dinner."

They have plenty of time, so they go all out: roasting a chicken, sauteeing vegetables, baking bread, and setting layered Jello to solidify in the fridge.

They talk like Kurt didn't just break down again, and for that Kurt is thankful.

When Carole and Finn arrive home, the food is already on the table, making the dining room look like a Pillsbury commercial.

"What's this?" Carole asks excitedly while Finn just moans, "Food..." and makes a beeline for his chair.

"Kitchen therapy," Kurt takes his own own seat.

Burt comes in from the kitchen to greet the new arrivals, still in his apron, and frowns when Carole bursts into laughter. He gives her a hard look, which only multiplies the adorable factor.

"It was a gift from my son," he defends.

Finn laughs through a mouthful of chicken, "You got him that?"

"I was six and I thought frills were pretty. What, you think I turned gay when I started high school?" There's a bitterness that Kurt doesn't entirely mean to put in his tone.

Dinner is spent with significantly less laughter.

When the meal is finished, Finn is excused to play video games in Kurt's room. Being raised in a household of two, he doesn't see the "we need to talk with you out of the room" significance and leaves without a second thought.

"I talked with Kurt about seeing a psychologist today. He's for it, right Kurt?"

Kurt nods.

"That's wonderful, Sweety."

Burt takes the paper from his pocket again and flattens it out on the table, "Carole and I got a list of doctors for you to look at. I wrote down some information on each of them. You can cross anyone off you don't want to see, but we can't be too picky because I want to get you seeing someone tomorrow."

Carole adds her own paper to the list, "I highlighted the doctors who can fit you in tomorrow. I assumed you'd want to speak to a woman."

"Thanks for doing that." Kurt picks up both sheets, skims them, and shrugs, "Anyone is fine with me, so long as they're female."

"Great, I'll make the calls tomorrow. I'm really proud of you, Son. This is very brave."

"I think it will make me better."

When Kurt sneaks to his father's bedroom door at night, there is no crying, and Kurt feels like his plan is working.

It turns out Carole had taken the day off of work to take Kurt into the psychologist, as well. By the time she's back from dropping Finn off at football, Burt has an early appointment lined up for Kurt with a Dr. Kymbal.

It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. This produces a noticeable anxiety that has both parents accompanying him in the doctor's office. Burt and Kurt share the couch and Carole takes a chair.

Dr. Kymbal just smiles, obviously having seen parents hover over patients in the past, "All right, Parents, you can stay in here on this first day, so long as I get the last ten minutes with just Kurt. Does that sound all right with you, Kurt?"

He nods, nervous. He's really not too keen on having himself laid bare before his dad and Carole, preferring to keep them in as much of the dark as possible since hearing his father's tears, but there's really little they don't know, so why bother insulting them and asking them to go?

Luckily, Dr. Kymbal spends the fifty minutes discussing procedure, scheduling, and her own theories on mental health. Kurt may not be paying attention to a word she is saying, but he already likes her.

"All right, it's been lovely meeting you, Burt and Carole, but I would like those ten minutes you promised us."

Burt grasps his son's knee, "You good, Son?"

Kurt pastes on his most convincing smile, "Yeah, Dad."

"We'll be right outside in the waiting room." Carole leads his father from the room and shuts the door.

"Welcome back to Earth, Kurt."

Kurt furrows his brow in confusion.

"You looked about a trillion miles away this whole time. How much of my spiel did you get?"

Kurt's blush is all she needs.

"It's quite all right. I'm not your teacher; there will be no test. You can listen or ignore me, your choice. I have to ask, though: do you want to be here?"

Kurt nods, "I want to get better."

"Good. That's all you need to worry about. I'll handle the rest. So, Kurt, could you tell me about yourself?"

It takes a bit before the words form, "Umm, I sing... in the high school Glee Club and Cheerios, uh, cheerleading. I like showtunes and fashion and I'm like, _really_ gay."

"Being gay is an important part of your identity?"

"It's a big part."

"I see," Dr. Kymbal jots something down in her obligatory psychologist notebook. "Do you enjoy school?"

'No.' "It's school. I like some of it, I don't like some of it."

More jotting. "Are you dating anyone?"

"Y- N- I was. We broke up."

"Because of what happened?"

Kurt nods, "And, Noah's not really gay. It just wasn't working out."

More jotting.

"What are you writing?"

"I just wrote 'Noah' because I'm going to ask you about him."

"Oh, uh, I don't really feel like talking about him."

"Don't worry. I won't ask the tough questions yet. I have to trick you into opening up with my psychic shrink powers first."

"Trick?" 'That's a funny thing to admit...'

"I connect through humor. You'll get used to it. I'm taking notes on what you tell me so we don't have to waste time with you repeating stories or reminding me of your friends' names. These notes are completely confidential. Next question: What's your best friend's name?"

"Mercedes."

"Tell me about her."

"She's fabulous. She's strong and confident and totally in your face," he gushes.

"I like her already. Okay, family."

"My mom died when I was eight, so for years it was just me and my dad, which was fine because he's amazing, but he started dating Carole a few months ago and at first it was hard but now it's like we're... complete, I think. I have a mom again, and I guess I have a brother now, which is new but nice." Kurt pauses, then chuckles, "I think your powers are working."

Dr. Kymbal taps her forehead with pride. "Okay, any other major relationships in your life you'll likely bring up?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I have a lot of friends in Glee Club, but I haven't seen them much this summer since I've been spending all my time with Noah-" He stops himself, hating the pain in his gut.

Dr. Kymbal just smiles, "All right then, I think we're done for the day. You probably don't know this because you were hanging out on Mars at the time, but I'll see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Kurt."

Kurt feels like this might actually work.

The Puckermans had always been a loud family. Sarah had a tendency to scream when emotional and filled her room with Hannah Montana. Noah played video games and liked to tell the characters what he thought of them. Rebekah blasted her daily soaps and gabbed on the phone. Weekly, there were shouting matches. It was how they were.

It makes the current quiet unbareable.

Sarah zones out in front of the muted TV, a frown permanently placed on her face as she loses herself in thought. She's stopped asking about what happened that day. She just remembers.

Noah spends his days either God knows where or in bed, and it's not hard to tell he's usually crying. He doesn't come downstairs to eat. He doesn't speak to anyone.

Rebekah feels terrible that after all she's put her family through, she can't help them now. Guilt consumes her. She's scrubbed down the Hudson household three times, a token of gratitude, and makes her greatest efforts to keep her children fed.

She plates tonight's dinner: macaroni and cheese and an iceberg salad. It looks like a ridiculous excuse for a meal and she makes a mental note to go grocery shopping.

She places a plate before Sarah, who doesn't move her eyes from the screen. She'll eat, though. She always does.

Rebekah takes the other plate up to her son.

He's staring up at the ceiling, eyes open and unseeing. His lunch is still next to him on the bed, untouched.

Rebekah sighs, trading the plates. 'Maybe he'll eat the Mac 'n Cheese. He always liked Mac 'n Cheese.' He'd always liked turkey sandwiches, too.

If Rebekah keeps feeding her children, maybe they'll get better. Then, maybe she'll stop hating herself.

Burt and Carole alternate days off so they can always be around for Kurt. Finn maximizes his presence, as well, foregoing after-practice hang outs and spending all his free time with Kurt.

This particular evening has the family in the living room together. Finn is in the easy chair, holding the remote like it's a long-coveted treasure, while Kurt alternates between each parent's shoulder for a pillow.

They are watching The Wizard of Oz, during which Kurt likes to look for references used in Wicked. He refuses to refer to the scarecrow as anything but Fiyero, and cheers whenever the character comes onscreen. He may relate best to Elphaba, but Fiyero has always been his favorite character. He's the tough guy who sees through Elphaba's freakishness and loves her for who she is.

Suddenly, Kurt feels that growing internal bubble of dread that signals his need to find his own little corner and freak out.

He mumbles something along the lines of "restroom" and "Don't bother pausing for me; I've seen it," and locks himself in his bathroom.

He lets the tears fall. The quicker they start, the quicker they dry up. Sitting cross-legged, he pounds his fists into his thighs.

'Got to get it out...' He can't let his family see this.

He grabs his towel, makes a seal around his mouth, and gives an experimental shout. Barely a peep makes it through the makeshift vocal silencer. He screams, and screams, and screams until the tense panic inside is purged.

Kurt takes a deep breath and dries his eyes. He splashes cool water on his face and adds concealer to cover the redness, and to cover the dark circles the tears revealed. He feels a sleep-deprived mess, but he doesn't have to look that way.

He returns to the living room, hoping his cheerful, "Oh, this is my favorite part!" is enough of a cover.

"I thought you hated the part where the witch dies, " his dad responds.

'Oops, should have checked what scene it was first.' Kurt easily recovers, "If you'd come with me to see Wicked, you'd know what really happens."

Kurt snuggles back between the parents. Everything is fine.

During his first week with Dr. Kymbal, Kurt sees her for an hour every day. It's not too difficult, really. They discuss Glee Club and petty school bullying and memories of his mother and his relationships with friends and family. They also discuss more difficult topics, such as how he is sleeping, if he has nightmares, and how he had gotten together with Noah.

On Friday, however, she throws him for a complete curveball.

"Kurt, tell me why you don't like being gay."

Kurt feels absolutely exposed with this question and scrambles to make it go away, "Uh, I wouldn't say I don't like-"

"You can just be honest."

'Damn you, Woman.' "Okay... because it's... wrong?"

"Says who?"

"Everyone. God."

"You mean the Bible."

"Yes, the Bible. God's word."

Dr. Kymbal leans forward, the way she always does before a spiel of hers, "There's a story in the Bible where a prostitute washes Jesus' feet. It teaches that one who lives a life of sin but does good deeds is better than a self-righteous person who cares for none-"

"So, what, it's okay that I'm a sinner because I'm nice?"

"That story was added to the Bible by a preacher over a thousand years after the apostles had died. It's impossible to know what other stories were added. My point is, maybe those parts in the Bible that speak out against homosexuality aren't actually God's words."

Kurt is silent for a bit as he processes that, "Doesn't that call the whole religion into question?"

"That's where faith comes in. Right now, your faith is that God hates you, and I would like to turn that notion on it's head. Remember when I told you I wasn't your teacher? Well, I'm giving you homework anyway. Tonight, I want you to write down ten things you are thankful for in your life."

"Because God put those good things in my life to show me he loves me?" he responds dubiously.

"Hey, you either believe in his omnipotence or you don't."

"What if I don't?"

"I still wouldn't mind you thinking positive."

Kurt shrugs. The assignment couldn't hurt.

"Before you go, I want to tell you how proud I am of the progress you've made this week. Thank you for opening up to me. You're on the right track. I'll see you on Monday, and have a good weekend."

When Kurt gets home, he grabs a school notebook and turns to a blank page. It's nice to be thinking happy thoughts. Sure, he's been doing well this week, in part due to Dr. Kymbal but mostly because of the time he allows himself to freak out in the solitude of his bathroom, but he can't honestly say he's been happy.

The first thing he writes on his list is "My dad." It may be kind of cheesy, but he doesn't care. This, of course, must be followed up by "Carole," "Finn," and "Mercedes," and he realizes he's already filled up almost half the list with just people and that might be cheating.

Then it strikes him how badly he wishes he could put "Noah."

Noah.

He's really screwed up with Noah. He must have. All his actions relied on the idea that homosexuality was fundamentally wrong, and if his doctor told him he was mistaken in that, he'd hurt Noah for no reason.

He was just the bad guy. He dumped him on a whim. Who does that?

'Me.'

Before he can think another though, Carole calls him for dinner.

It's a simple meal, sandwiches and tomato soup, and Carole must have been informed that it was something Kurt's mother used to make when he was sick. She's yet to stop making every meal special for Kurt.

The food is eaten in near-silence. Kurt isn't sure why until halfway though his red soup, when Carole puts her hand on his arm, "Sweety, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you know that you're crying?"

Kurt reaches up to touch his face. Tears. Shit. He'd been doing so well, hiding every emotional outburst and keeping his family safe, and now he's gone and screwed it all up _again_. Why can't he just do this one thing right?

"Oh, God, I... Sorry, I should go. Sorry, dinner... sorry." At this point he stops trying to communicate and leaves. No one calls after him, giving him the space he so often needs.

He barricades himself in the bathroom anyway. He's sobbing by now, open and uncontrollable and he had no idea why. That's not rare. As far as he can tell, these outbursts aren't triggered by anything in particular. He doesn't feel anything but overwhelmed during them.

He has to stop crying. They are worried about him this time. He usually slips away unnoticed and has all the time in the world, but they saw him crying this time and that means someone will come after him and that means he needs to get through this fast.

He yanks his towel off the rack and punches it into the floor, again and again and again. Nothing. He screams into it until his muffled voice is hoarse. Still nothing. He moves onto the bathmat. It offers less give, hurts his knuckles more, but he can't shake the feeling of being overwhelmed.

He digs through his drawers, not sure what he's looking for until he finds them: sewing needles, metal and sharp and perfect.

Just a little pain to give him something to focus on until he can get his emotions under control.

Kurt looks at his arms and thinks of all his short-sleeved shirts. It's vanity that has him sitting in the empty bathtub in just his boxers, not wanting to get blood on his clothes, before he places the point of the needle to the skin above his knee and rakes it across.


	7. Chapter 7

The scratch doesn't bleed. Neither does the second. They're supposed to bleed and they aren't and the panic is intensifying now. He needs this.

He scratches himself a third time. Suddenly, like they were waiting for each other, all three scratches bleed at once. Kurt feels like he should be relieved, that it finally worked, but there's more blood than he'd expected, too much blood.

This was a bad idea. There is no relief, just blood and stinging pain and God, this was stupid.

He places his hand over the wound, aiming to stop the bleeding and remove it from his sight.

He'd cut himself. This was cutting. He's a cutter.

How'd he let it get this far? He was okay! He was handling this!

He was not okay.

A knock on the door startles him, and the pain in his leg flares more than it has any right to.

"Kurt, are you okay in there?" It's Carole. She can't see Kurt like this. How does he keep ruining everything?

"I'm fine!" He catches another glimpse of the shiny needle in his hand, the blood smeared on his thigh, and it hits him that he can't do this. He can't handle this on his own. He's tried and really, really failed and he needs help.

"Wait," he prays Carole didn't leave, "I'm not okay."

Carole hasn't moved an inch, "Do you want to let me in, Honey?"

"I..." 'I have to.' Kurt stands, and again his leg seers in more pain than three scratches should bring, and he unlocks the door.

It takes all the strength he can muster to open the door, to let Carole see him almost naked and bleeding and having just done the stupidest thing of his life.

He prefaces the reveal with a desperate, "I'm sorry," to give Carole some sort of warning.

It doesn't work. She's shocked. She gasps his name and her eyes widen as if the thought of seeing him like this hadn't even crossed her mind. It probably hadn't. He'd worked hard to seem fine.

Mom-mode kicks in quickly. She grabs Kurt by the arm and pulls him from the bathroom so he can't lock himself away when he so obviously needs care. Then she shouts, "Burt, come down here!"

That's the moment everything becomes way too real. He's still sobbing and still feeling way too overwhelmed and now his dad, who cries too much for him, is going to see. He collapses to the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore. Carole goes down with him, hugging him to her as best she can as he covers his wound, trying to hide this from his dad as long as possible.

Burt races down to the basement, terrified. He sees Carole holding his sobbing, contorted boy and again, the fact that Kurt is alive means a hell of a lot.

Carole removes Kurt's hand from his thigh with little effort and Burt sees the three still-bleeding scratches. It takes a bit for them to register as an obvious sign of cutting.

"Oh, Kurt," he closes his eyes for a moment, then grabs the bedside phone and dials.

A gasp from the stairs announces Finn's arrival. He stares for just a second then runs back up to the main level.

Kurt didn't need Finn to see this. He doesn't need any of them seeing it, but he's brought it upon himself.

Carole kisses his forehead, brushes back his hair, rubs his back, offers every comforting touch at once to try and calm him, "Shh, it's going to be okay. We're going to help you."

Burt, phone pressed to his ear, sits across from Kurt, looking guilty.

Kurt feels they should be mad at him, but he can't bring himself to voice even another apology.

"Hello, Dr. Kymbal? My son cut himself," Burt gets right to the point. "No, it's just a few scratches. They've almost stopped bleeding... Not yet..." Burt continues the conversation, but Kurt stops listening.

Finn comes back, the family first aid kit in hand. He kneels before Kurt's feet and pulls at his ankle until Kurt lets him extend his injured leg.

Football has him well-trained for this, so he's able to be quick and clinical. He cleans the wound with Hydrogen Peroxide, and offers an apologetic smile at Kurt's pained hiss. He applies Neosporin as gently as he can and tapes down a large cotton bandage. He taps Kurt's other knee affectionately to let him know he's done.

Kurt looks up from his leg, and Finn offers him the same, goofy grin he always has, and suddenly he doesn't feel so overwhelmed anymore.

"Do you want sweat pants or PJ pants?"

Oh, yeah, he's almost naked. "Pajama."

Finn nods and retrieves a pair of Kurt's soft cotton pajama bottoms and his own T-shirt.

The shirt is way too big on him, but Kurt thinks this might be another one of Finn's ways of reaching out to him, so this has just become his favorite outfit.

"Okay, thank you, Doctor," Burt finishes up the phone call and turns to Kurt who is once again curled up against Carole. "Kurt, Dr. Kymbal has agreed to meet with you in her office in an hour."

Kurt just nods.

"Kurt... God, why?"

He doesn't really have an answer, but he does have a lot of guilt, "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I make you cry."

Burt closes his eyes and rubs his hand over his head. "Kurt, you've got to quit doing this. You've got to quit pushing us away. You've got to talk to us, even if it makes me cry. I know you've always done this, and when it was just typical bullying, I let it slide, figuring you were growing up and wanted to handle this sort of stuff on your own. But this? Kid, look what you did to yourself."

Kurt can't feel more ashamed than he does now.

His dad tugs at his shoulder, "Come on, we're leaving."

Kurt stands and his dad's hand stays on his shoulder, guiding him up the stairs, out the door, and to the car.

Carole takes him from there, pulling him into the back seat so she can hold him during the ride.

Finn takes shotgun, his eyes darting between his family members the whole time.

Burt puts all his efforts into watching the road. Breaking down, shouting, shaking Kurt until the shit messing him up is dislodged from his mind: not going to help. They'd just get in a wreck.

Dr. Kymbal meets them by the front door and leads them up to her office. The building is closed, but she has keys, so that doesn't seem to bother her. She seems perfectly fine meeting them in the evening.

Carole keeps her arm around Kurt's waist, holding him up, holding him together, keeping him from doing something stupid.

Dr. Kymbal grasps Kurt's hand, finally convincing Carole to release her hold, "Okay, Family, I'm going to talk with Kurt alone first. Please don't interrupt. I don't know how long it's going to take, but we're going to take as long as we need. Then, we're going to come back out here and talk. I don't know how long that's going to take, but we'll take as long as we need. Sit tight, get comfortable, order a pizza, and those are magazines." With that, she locks Kurt away with her in her office.

Kurt takes his regular seat on the couch, not looking forward to what she's going to have to say. The woman is blunt, and he'd been stupid.

Dr. Kymbal takes up one of the patients' chairs so there is no desk between them. Apparently that's emergency procedure. "So, Kurt, your dad tells me you cut yourself."

Kurt immediately feels he needs to defend himself, "They're just scratches. They probably won't even scar."

"Don't justify it. Justifying it makes it easier to do again, and you aren't doing that again."

Kurt bristles a bit and studies his knees.

"You can shut me out. You have that right, but I distinctly remember you saying you wanted to get better."

"Screwed that up."

"Oh, so we're done now? We're giving up?"

Kurt doesn't respond.

"Kurt, why did you open the bathroom door for Carole?"

'How does she know that?' He shrugs.

"Was this your first time cutting yourself?"

A nod.

"Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I cut my leg!" Kurt jabs his hand at the raised area on his thigh where the bandage is fastened.

"Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"No! I didn't want to die! I _don't_ want to die!"

"Why did you open the door for Carole?"

"Because I needed help! I couldn't handle it anymore..."

"So, let me help you."

He rolls his eyes, "Fine, just... don't judge me."

"What makes you think I'm judging you?"

"You're blunt. Blunt people are judgmental. I should know."

"I'm not judging you, Kurt. We've been through a lot together this week. I want you to get better as much as you do. I just need you to talk to me. Will you do that?"

Kurt sighs, ponders, and offers a tight nod.

"A nonverbal commitment to speaking. Bold move."

Kurt's laughter surprises him. He hadn't expected her to make jokes, to treat him as she had that morning, after he made such a stupid mistake. Why has no one yelled at him?

"Dp you love your family, Kurt?"

"Yes! This wasn't about-"

"I know it wasn't. Does your family love you?"

He answers easily, "Yes."

"Hold onto that. Tonight's going to be tough."

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Tell me why you cut yourself."

"So... I wouldn't feel...so," Kurt flaps his hand in the air, looking for the right word, and ends up with, "much."

"What do you mean?"

"I get... overwhelmed sometimes, and I feel like I have to... let it out, or something."

"How do you usually let it out?"

"Hitting things, screaming into pillows, crying..."

"Does your family know?"

"No, I don't want them to."

"Why not?"

"My dad witnessed one panic attack and I heard him crying about it to Carole. He shouldn't have to deal with this stuff. He already has to worry about enough."

"One might say you're the one who has to deal with too much."

"Yeah, but it happened to me! I'm the one who's supposed to deal with it!"

Dr. Kymbal notices something Kurt doesn't even realize he's showing, and it makes her decision for her, "Kurt, I think we need to talk about the assault."

Kurt looks stricken, unprepared.

"I know it's going to be hard, but once you tell me about it, I can help you get through it. It's ultimately what I'm here for."

Kurt covers his face with his hands for a moment, thinking. "My... my memory of it is... iffy. I forget details."

"That's normal."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything you're willing to tell me."

"I... I don't know where to... start."

"Where were you?"

"Noah's room."

"What had you been doing?"

"Playing video games... and making out."

"And that's when he came in?"

"Yeah, he... he didn't know about us. He freaked out, called Noah a f-fag, and then he had a gun..." The first tear of many in the coming hours slides down Kurt's cheek. "He said no fag would live under his roof and he put the gun to my head and I thought I was gonna' die! And, Noah just kept screaming at him not to kill me, and when I felt the gun pull away, I was so sure he was gonna' shoot Noah, and I- and I just couldn't take that!"

"But, he didn't shoot Noah?"

"No, he fucked me in front of him instead. Noah was handcuffed to the desk and he told me he loved me before... While he did it, he kept talking about how we deserved it because that's what faggotry is. That's what I am, but that's not what Noah is! He's not gay! He didn't deserve to be punished for what I did to him!"

Dr. Kymbal could smack herself for not seeing this sooner. She knows exactly what to do.

The waiting room is quiet and tense. Magazines are strewn about the cold pizza box, which was emptied of its contents hours ago. Finn and Carole sit together, her cheek on his shoulder and his chin on her head. Burt sits alone in the quiet contemplation of a man in anguish.

Carole pulls away from her son, giving him a kiss on the forehead before sitting beside Burt.

She takes his hand in hers, "I think the fact that it's taking so long is a good sign."

"How could I let this happen, Carole?"

"Burt-"

"I knew something was off with him, but I didn't do anything about it."

"Something terrible happened to him, Burt. He was bound to be off."

"My son's a cutter. There were signs and I missed them."

"There were no scars, I checked. As far as I can tell, he did it once, scared himself, and came for help. After what he's been through... I think it's going to be okay."

Burt's smile is tight, but he nods and squeezes Carole's hand in gratitude.

The office door opens, and Dr. Kymbal leads Kurt into the waiting room. He looks nervous, but he's looked far worse than nervous lately, so nervous is decidedly okay.

He chews his bottom lip as he eyes his father.

Burt firmly plants his feet on the ground, making a strong lap, and waves his kid over, "Come here."

Kurt races to him, arms flying around his neck as he buries his face in his neck.

"Kurt has agreed to let me tell you what's going on, since you are so integral to his healing process," Dr. Kymbal announces. "Kurt has been bottling up his emotional responses to the assault, which makes them manifest in panic attacks. This is incredibly unhealthy, so the attacks have been getting worse. He's been handling them violently, but wasn't harming himself until tonight. Here's where you all come in. While punching pillows and screaming in private is a viable solution to your average panic attack, Kurt is extremely extraverted and gains strength trough human contact. It would be better for him if he had a hand to hold and a hug afterward. Also, talking. These are all in response to emotional issues and will improve with time so long as he talks, which he'll do because he's no longer hiding, right?"

Kurt nods into his father's shoulder, which isn't all that convincing considering the subject, until he speaks, "I'm sorry I shut you out. I didn't want you to hurt like I was hurting, but it just made everything worse. I know you just want to help, and I need your help."

Burt pats his son's back, "What are the odds he'll do it again?"

Kurt cringes but Burt has to know.

Dr. Kymbal responds, "In my professional opinion, he won't, but you're going to keep an extra eye on him anyway in the near future, and I completely support that."

When the family is sufficiently briefed, and the doctor is sufficiently thanked, everyone goes home.

Stepping inside the house, Kurt heads straight for his basement room.

"Uh-uh," his father calls after him, "I'm not letting you be alone for a second. You're sleeping with us tonight."

Kurt looks at the floor, "Can I brush my teeth?"

"I'll go with him," Finn offers. Burt nods, and Finn follows Kurt very closely down the stairs.

They stop upon reaching the bottom step. There is a trail of tiny blood droplets from the bathtub to the spot of the bedroom where Finn had patched Kurt up.

Finn recovers quickly, brushing past Kurt and digging through the bathroom drawers.

Kurt's just started worrying that he's looking for a secret stash of cutting supplies when Finn pulls out a sponge. He wets it in the sink and rubs at the nearest spot of Kurt's blood.

"Oh, God, Finn, I can do that!" Kurt moves to take the sponge.

Finn leaps to his feet and grabs Kurt into a hug, "Promise me you'll never do that again!"

The raw fear in Finn's voice instantly brings tears to Kurt's eyes. He nods.

Finn squeezes tighter, "Say it!"

"I promise. I promise I won't do it again."

Finn relaxes his hold a bit, "You're, like, my brother now. You're not allowed to do stuff like that."

"Okay."

Finn lets Kurt go and resumes scrubbing redness from the floor.

"Finn, please stop cleaning up my blood."

Burt leans against the door jamb, having come in response to the commotion, "Kurt, you ever think of doing something like this again, you remember this: you family is the one left cleaning up after you."

"I- really- I wasn't trying to kill myself!"

"Brush your teeth."

Kurt does, under the watchful eye of his father as Finn continues wiping his blood from the floor. When he's done, Burt guides him by the shoulder up to the master bedroom.

Carole is already in bed, her face warm and welcoming as Kurt slides in next to her. Burt lies on his other side, switching off the light.

"This isn't punishment, Kurt. I'm doing this because I love you."

"I know, Dad. I love you, too."

Burt pulls his son's head to his chest and strokes the soft hair until he feels his son relax into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for all the reviews! They really mean a lot to me.

Sarah Puckerman can not stand to see her big brother cry. She knows something bad happened to him and his kissy-face friend Kurt, and everybody's telling her that Kurt is getting better, but he's never around anymore and Noah is really sad.

He's currently lying on his (Finn's) bed, staring at the far wall as tears stream down his face. He hasn't noticed Sarah staring at him for the last minute and a half, and that's really all the patience the young girl has.

She walks up to the bed, "Noah?"

Puck blinks, just noticing her presence, "What do you need, Bucket?"

"You're crying."

Puck touches his face and is surprised to feel tears. "I'm okay, just thinking."

"Thinking sad thoughts?"

He nods solemnly.

"About Kurt?"

Another nod, another tear.

"What happened, Noah?"

"No, Sarah. We don't talk about that."

"I don't mean _that_, I mean after. Why aren't you and Kurt hanging out anymore?"

"We broke up, Bucket."

"Broke up? Like dating?"

"Yeah, like dating."

"You can break up with friends?"

"Kurt wasn't just a friend. Remember the 'kissy face?' That's because we were dating."

"Oh, I just thought you did that with all your friends."

One thing Puck does not need right now is to be called a whore, even when done so innocently, "Kurt and I were dating."

"But, Kurt's a boy."

"Some boys like dating other boys."

"Oh, so... you like dating other boys?"

Puck shakes his head, "Just Kurt."

Sarah thinks for a minute, "So, Kurt was really special."

"Yeah, Bucket. Really special."

"Then, why did you break up?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you unbreak up?"

"I tried. He doesn't want to."

"Oh... so, he dumped you?"

'Great. She doesn't understand the link between kissing and dating, but the concept of being dumped she grasps.' "Yeah, he dumped me."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"Maybe Kurt will want you back when he's better."

"I don't think so. He doesn't really like me anymore."

"But, you're Noah," she says, as if it's the best thing in the world.

He chuckles, "Thanks, Bucket."

He may not be happy, but he's not crying anymore.

When Kurt wakes up between his parents, he's momentarily confused, and then memories come flooding back with a hefty dose of fresh shame. His leg aches at the mere thought of those damn scratches, an added punishment.

"Good morning, Kurt." Burt's mood is unreadable by voice alone, but Kurt isn't willing to look at him yet.

"Morning." 'Don't be mad.'

"Waffles or omelets?"

Kurt finally allows his eyes to open with a glimmer of hope, "I can show you how to make french toast."

"Sounds good to me. Let's let Carole sleep in."

"She's still asleep?"

"She had a rough night."

'God, ouch.' "Dad, I'm sorry-"

"Shh, not here. You'll wake her." Burt leads Kurt out of the room.

As soon as he shuts the door, Kurt starts again, "Really, Dad, I'm sorry. It was stupid and I swear I won't do anything like that ever again."

"Kurt, I love you, and for the most part I trust you, but this isn't something you can just apologize out of and hope I forgive and forget. What you did was big, and you're just going to have to accept that the consequences of that are me sticking to you like glue, and yeah, I'm pretty ticked off."

Kurt doesn't know how to respond. His apology was shot down, there's no argument to be made, and 'okay' seems pretty weak. He's left in a miserable limbo and his face must show it because his dad softens his tone.

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna' hug you and stuff, and you can still come to me. Scratch that, you have to. Everyday, I want an hour-long debriefing of everything that's on your mind, and I know when you're holding something back. Think of me as your Shrink 2.0 starting tonight."

Kurt nods obediently.

Burt grabs his son's shoulder and squeezes, "Kurt, Buddy, I still love you the same. Now how about we start on that french toast."

Burt really does stick to Kurt. They are within five feet of each other at all times, sharing every activity, Burt's arm more often around his son than not. Burt even waits outside the door when Kurt uses the bathroom, which is humiliating and that's possibly the point.

Finn and Carole do their fair share of hovering, too, though considering the past week it's not exactly a change. The extra attention still has Kurt feeling antsy and scrutinized, and though Kurt would never admit to that, his father notices. Burt's solution is to send the Hudsons on a grocery run.

This leaves just the two of them on the couch, Burt's arm over Kurt's shoulders, watching Discovery Channel in HD. Kurt tries to let it feel normal, like any other Saturday at home with his dad, because he just can't stand the idea of the older man being mad at him, especially when there's nothing he can do to fix it.

Kurt is ripped from his thoughts by a small knock on the door. His fingers clench into Burt's jeans. He's still not too keen on strangers, despite the success of adding Dr. Kymbal to his life, and the idea of them coming to his home, his sanctuary, is terrifying.

Burt squeezes Kurt's shoulder before standing, "I'll get it. Stay here."

When he opens the door, Burt is fairly certain he's hallucinating. "Sarah?" he asks, thinking if he states the girls' name she suddenly won't be standing alone on his porch.

"Mr. Hummel, is Kurt home?"

"Sarah, where's your mom?"

"Mr. Hummel, this is very important."

Burt turns to look at Kurt, who nods. "All right, he's in the living room."

"Thank you!" Sarah moves past Burt and marches to the couch.

"Hey, Bucket..."

"Hi, Kurt. Are you feeling better now?"

"Uh, yeah, I am feeling better. Thank you." The nice thing is that, for the most part, it's the truth.

Sarah sits next to him and crosses her legs daintily. "I'm very glad." She's obviously mimicking some adult role model, "Does that mean you like Noah again?"

Kurt hadn't been expecting to have _this_ conversation. "It's really complicated."

"I know you were dating."

"Oh." Just, oh.

"And I know you dumped him."

"Oh..."

"It makes him really sad and he's always crying."

Kurt hadn't known that, but he really didn't check up on Puck at all after dumping him, even when he came over begging for a second chance.

"Kurt, can you please unbreak up with Noah?"

"Sarah, I-"

"He really, really misses you and he's sorry for everything he did wrong and he wants to be your boyfriend again."

Kurt takes it all in, for once listening when it comes to Puck, "Thank you for telling me that."

"Does that mean you'll think about it?"

"Yeah, Bucket. I'll think about it."

Sarah throws her arms around Kurt's neck, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

The front door bursts open and the paper bag-covered forms of Carole and Finn walk through.

Burt takes the bags from Carole's arms.

"Oh, thank you, Burt. This is all of them."

"Look who came to visit, Carole."

She looks to the living room and her eyes widen in surprise, "Sarah?"

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson!"

"Where's your mother?"

"I walked here."

"She walked here, Carole."

Carole turns back to Burt, "I'll drive her home."

"Thank you."

"Come on, Sarah. Your mother must be worried about you."

Sarah shakes her head as she walks to Carole, "Mommy's not home right now."

Carole takes Sarah's hand, "Where is she?"

"Well, we're out of food, so maybe Safeway?"

"Okay, let's go," Carole takes Sarah out to the car.

Burt gets Finn to finish with the groceries so he can check on his son.

Kurt is lost in deep, unhappy thoughts. He's had too many of those, so Burt tries to pull him out.

"So, why Bucket?"

It takes a bit for Kurt to form: "Huh?"

"Why do you call her Bucket?"

Still dazed, Kurt responds in a monotone, "Little Puckerman... Little Puck... Puckette... Bucket."

Burt assumes that is the evolution of the small girl's nickname, "Ah... um, cute."

"Noah came up with it."

"Ah," again.

Kurt looks up at his father, eyes shining, "Dad, I really fucked up with Noah!"

Carole tries to call the Puckermans via cell phone. There's no answer on the landline, which Sarah explains is because Puck doesn't answer it, and Rebekah doesn't own a cell. Carole's about to just wait at the house with Sarah until Rebekah comes home until she hears the small girl's stomach growl.

"Let's go see if you mom's at Safeway."

"Okay," Sarah agrees easily.

The pair checks every aisle in the story, but Rebekah is nowhere to be found.

"Well, while we're here, we might as well get some food."

"Okay," Sarah can see the logic in that.

"What would you like?"

Sarah looks momentarily confused, then bows her head, "Oh, my mom's bringing home food right now. I don't need anything."

"Well, then, we'll just get you something special."

Sarah brightens. Charity may hurt the pride, but a gift is music to any child's ears. "Can I have Cheerio's?"

Carole grabs a cart, "Of course you can."

As soon as the box is in the cart, Carole adds, "We don't want your brother to feel left out. What kind of cereal does he like?"

"Captain Crunch."

The box falls in the cart. Carole heads to the dairy section and as milk is added to the cart, she explains, "You can't have cereal without milk." Then, with an exclamation of, "That's a low price!" she drops a block of cheddar in. "Noah loves cheese. You know what goes great with cheese? Crackers. Don't those sound good?"

Sarah nods, and Saltines appear in the cart.

"Soup goes great with crackers, too. Noah always has soup when he comes over." Five cans of Campbell's chunky are added.

"Oh, goodness, how have I not gotten you something healthier? What kind of mother am I? You mom would want me getting these." Apples, bananas, carrots, grapes.

Sarah is beginning to look suspicious.

"You know what I forgot about when we got milk? Cookies!"

The prospect of sugary treats completely replaces any feeling she might be being tricked. "Yay, cookies!"

Of course Carole has to get two boxes of cookies, for Puck to share.

Puck wakes with a start. Every time he closes his eyes, it's the same nightmare: Kurt is hurt, beaten, raped, murdered right in front of him and he can't do a damn thing about it. Each time he wakes up, there are seconds of agonizing horror in which he can't remember if Kurt is actually alive.

Then he remembers: 'Kurt is alive; he just doesn't want me.'

Though the fact that the man he loves is out there, recovering, and not in a grave is relieving, the horror morphs into a bone-deep depression that lasts until the cycle repeats itself.

It's light outside, so it must be day. The house is silent. It's always silent.

There's food in front of him and his stomach is growling, but eating would be moving and moving would be living and he's just not up for any of that.

The phone rings one... two... three... four... five times. The machine gets it. That must mean no one is home. He hopes they don't call back; he likes the silence.

Kurt always liked it loud. He had a playlist for every mood, and when his iPod wasn't handy he was singing. When Puck was with Kurt, he liked it loud, too.

There's a knock at the door.

Puck doesn't know what compels him, but suddenly he's getting up to answer it.

His muscles scream of atrophy. He hasn't gotten up in... he doesn't know how long.

He manages to fumble to the door by the third set of knocks.

He wipes dried drool from his cheek, but aside from that, he doesn't care much about his appearance. Maybe if he looks gruff enough, it will scare whoever is bothering him away and he can be alone again.

Puck swings the door open to find, "Kurt?"


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you, again, for all your wonderful reviews! You guys make posting here awesome!

Standing on Puck's (the house may belong to the Hudsons, but for now the home is Puck's) porch has Kurt feeling vulnerable. It doesn't matter that his father is three feet behind him; he only ever steps outside to see Dr. Kymbal, and that's routine now so it's okay, but this is new and scary and exposed.

With every knock on the door his unease grows. His father puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, but the world is still spinning unpredictably until the door finally, finally opens, and there's Puck.

"Kurt?"

"Can we please come in?" Kurt sounds more desperate than he means to, but not nearly as desperate as he feels.

At Kurt's "we," Puck looks around in confusion until his eyes fall on Burt. He'd only had eyes for Kurt. "Uh, yeah, of course," he steps out of the doorway.

"Thank you!" Kurt bursts past, followed closely by his father.

As Puck shuts the door, Kurt finally gets a good look at him. His eyes are red and puffy from tears, his youthful stubble unshaven. He's moving stiffly, weakly, and Kurt's certain he's wearing the same clothes as when he last saw him.

"Noah..."

"Kurt? Why-"

"I'm so sorry! I was stupid and I never should have said what I did. I was wrong. I wish I could take it all back. Can... Can we just pretend it never happened... by reason of mental defect?"

Puck looks hopeful but guarded, "Are you taking me back?"

"Will _you_ take _me_ back?"

Puck's heart stops, or maybe it's just started beating again. His answer is to close the gap between their bodies and wrap Kurt in a hug, his body shaking with emotion.

Kurt returns the embrace, "I missed you, Noah!"

"I need you, Kurt."

A sob catches in Kurt's throat, "I'm sorry. I never should have abandoned you when we needed each other the most!"

"Shh, it's okay."

"No, it's not. I was horrible!"

"We'll talk about it later. Right now, I just want to hold you. I need to feel you're really here."

"I'm here. I'm not leaving you again."

That undoes Puck. He buries his head in Kurt's shoulder and sobs. Kurt is back. That's all he needed. Everything is going to be okay now. Kurt's here. Kurt's his.

Burt watches them until the touching scene brings a tear to his eyes. 'Okay, enough of that.' He ventures into the kitchen to find some food for the obviously thinning jock. The boys could use the privacy.

When it becomes obvious Puck is having difficulty supporting his own weight, Kurt pulls him to the couch and sits him down.

Puck grabs Kurt's hand to pull him down, as well. Kurt thinks he's complying when he goes to sit on the cushion next to Puck's, but that's not enough for Puck. He needs to feel Kurt, hold him, have his heart beat against his chest. He pulls Kurt into his lap and holds him close.

It's painful for Kurt to see how desperate Puck is for him. He had said more hurtful things to Puck than he had to anyone, yet here Puck is, opening his heart again and letting Kurt crawl back in.

This is love. This is the unconditional acceptance and adoratin that Kurt never should have doubted.

Kurt will just have to earn it.

Burt walks into the living room scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh, there's no food in there... but, Kid, are you hungry?"

Puck's noisy stomach answers for him.

Kurt rubs it sympathetically.

Puck leans his forehead to Kurt's, revelling in the affection he's so craved.

Burt continues, "Well, we've got plenty of food at our house-"

Suddenly, Puck has plenty of food at his house as Sarah leads Carole and a few armfulls of groceries into the entryway.

Upon seeing the newly-formed couple cuddling on the couch, Sarah drops the (luckily durable) food, squeals, and pounces on them. "You unbroke up! Yay yay yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She plants a sloppy kiss on Kurt's cheek, then gives her brother equal treatment. "It it because of me?"

Kurt leans his head into Puck's shoulder, "It was because of Noah, but you helped, Bucket."

Sarah preens, then rushes off to tell Carole of her heroism.

Puck nuzzles his cheek into Kurt's hair, "I love you."

Kurt is shocked, actually shocked, that Puck takes such intitiative. Not once, but _twice_, he has rejected Puck's declarations of love, and here he's trying again. Kur links their eyes so Puck can see his sincerity, "I love you, too. I never stopped."

A few tears fall, but Puck manages not to break down. He just buries his head in Kurt's neck, lets go of the past, and embraces the present.

Carole walks in with a steaming bowl, "I brought you some soup, Noah. I thought you might be hungry. Do you want some, too, Kurt?"

"No, thank you," Kurt accepts the bowl. He scoops some chicken noodle onto the spoon, gently blows away the steam, and brings it to Puck's lips.

Puck lets Kurt feed him and manages to finsh half the bowl before his stomach protests his sudden decision not to starve.

Kurt places the bowl on the ground out of harm's way and cuddles back into Puck's warm body.

Puck sniffs then groans, "I need a shower."

Kurt laughs softly, "Let's sit here a bit longer, let you digest, and then we'll get you cleaned up."

"Okay," Puck can't argue with getting to hold Kurt a little longer, no matter how stale he smells.

Rebekah Puckerman walks into a very different house than the one she'd left. There are sounds, happy sounds like laughter, and the smell of hot food. Noah's out of his room, and with... Kurt?

She manages to get her Save-A-Lot bag all the way to the kitchen table before she is noticed.

"Oh, Rebekah, hi!" Carole's voice is cheery, "Sorry, we've sort of made outselves at home here."

Rebekah smiles but her words hurt her, "Well, it is your house."

"Oh, my house was never this clean!"

'Because you're employed full-time.' "It' the least I could do."

"Sarah, why don't you see how Kurt and Noah are doing?" When Sarah skips out of the kitchen, Carole turns back to Rebekah, "How is everything?"

"Isaac's in jail. He was arrested a few days ago. The trial starts on Tuesday."

"The police keep us informed, Rebekah. I meant, how are you?"

Rebakah begins to unload her boxes and cans of discount non-parishables, "I'm fine. We're getting by. I think it will all get better once the trial's over and everything can just be put to rest. How's... How's Kurt?"

It's Burt who fields this question, "Better. Much better. He's talking with someone about it. I think the fact that he's back together with Noah means a lot."

"They broke up?" Rebekah can't hide her surprise in time to save herself from the embarrassment of ignorance.

Carole tries to save her friend, "Oh, it was just a quick thing. It's all over now."

Rebekah nods, then looks at the soup on the stove, "Thanks for feeding my kids."

"Oh, it was nothing. The kids wanted to see each other." Carole isn't sure if it's a good idea to burden Rebekah with the knowledge that Sarah was walking around Lima unsupervised, and is saved from making the decision when Puck, Kurt, and Sarah enter the kitchen.

Puck, an arm around Kurt's waist, clears his throat nervously, "Mr. Hummel, if your offer still stands, would you mind if I stayed with Kurt tonight?"

Burt doesn't remember making such an offer, but he's not going to rescind it now. He looks to Rebekah, who nods her permission, and agrees, "You're always welcome in our home, Noah."

Puck relaxes.

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt smiles. "Come on, Noah, let's pack your stuff."

Sarah follows her brother to his room like a puppy watching her master prepare for an extended trip.

Rebekah wraps her arms around herself and looks to Carole beseechingly, "Take Sarah, too?"

It takes a moment for Carole to fully comprehend what Rebekah has asked of her, and a moment more to get over the shock, "Rebekah, I'm sure she needs her mother right now."

"She needs her brother." The tears finally come, "Carole, I'm not much of a mother right now."

"Okay, I'll tell you what: Burt will take the kids home, they'll spend the night, and you and I will talk."

"Thank you. It won't be for long. I jut need a little time to get back on my feet..."

Carole gives Burt a pointed look as she moves to comfort Rebekah.

"I'll go get them ready." Burt finds all three kids rummaging through Finn's closet for the few items that had been brought over from the Puckerman residence. Noah tosses them into a grocery bag as Burt clears his throat for attention.

"Can I talk to you, Bucket?"

Sarah giggles at Burt's use of her nickname, and Burt has to agree: he does sound pretty silly. Still, she follows him into the hall.

"I was hoping to bring you back to stay with us, too."

Sarah glances in the direction of the kitchen, at the wall concealing her mother, "Why?"

"You've been a lot of help lately and I was hoping you'd help them get settled in."

Sugary treats and being helpful are Sarah Puckerman's two weaknesses. She lights up like a Menorah, "Okay, I can help!"

"Thank you. Let's get your stuff ready."

When the Puckerman children have all their current possessions packed, Burt checks that Rebekah has composed herself and has them say goodbye to their mother.

Puck and Kurt don't once let go of each other, and Kurt's grip tighens in the trips beteen front doors and the car.

When Finn sees Kurt and Puck enter the house wrapped in each others' arms, he's considerably confused. Sure, they'd been hanging out together before, but this? And after what Kurt had been through?

Kurt notices the expresion and blushes, "Noah, I think we have some explaining to do."

Puck looks up and right into the eyes of the former best friend whose girlfriend he knocked up, "Hey, Finn..."

"What the hell!"

"Hey!" Burt covers Sarah's ears. 'You three, basement, now."

The short journey does nothing to calm Finn, "Puck, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm dating Kurt," Puck hopes just getting the truth out there will bring this to a quick end. No such luck.

"Don't you think that's pretty sick, preying on him after what just happened to him?"

"Excuse me!" Kurt enters in, "Preying? My dad was right there, Finn. Do you really think he'd let that happen? Do you really think _I'd_ let that happen?"

"You? Kurt, I don't know _what_ you'd let happen, or did you forget about last night?"

Kurt flinches as his leg pain flares. He hasn't yet filled Puck in, and the reference hurts regardless.

Puck's brow furrows in worry, "What happened last night?"

"I'll tell you everything later, Noah, I promise."

"You haven't told him yet? Dude, Kurt, you are so not ready to start something like this!"

"I'm not starting anything, Finn! We've been together for almost five months!"

That catches Finn off-guard, "Wait, Puck?"

"Yes, Puck! I love him. He loves me. We've been in love for a while now."

"...Oh."

"Yeah, oh. So, there's no preying going on here."

Finn is thoroughly admonished, "Ah, gee, Kurt, I'm sorry. Puck, Dude, I shouldn't have..."

"I knocked up your girlfriend, you said I was only with the man I love to take advantage of him. Even?"

"I..." Finn feels they do seem pretty evenly matched, "Yeah, Dude, even."

To solidify their pact, they spit in their hands before shaking them.

Kurt's eyebrow is still arched in annoyance.

Finn works on fixing that relationship now, "Ah, Kurt, I'm sorry... I... Remember when I said we're brothers now? Well, I'm older and bigger, which makes you the little brother, so I'm supposed to... protect you, ya' know?"

"So you yelled at me?"

Finn scratches his head, "Well, I'm new at this. I just didn't want you getting hurt."

Kurt lets go of his annoyance in a single sigh, "I guess I'm new at this, too." He looks down at his hand and grimaces. Still holding Puck's clean hand in his own, he offers an alternative to the spit shake and opens an arm for a hug, "Brothers?"

Finn accepts the embrace, "Brothers."

As Finn pulls away, he turns to Puck and as an afterthought asks, "Hey, wait, since when have you been into dudes?"

Burt has Sarah help him in the kitchen, which would just be the blind leading the blind with any actual recipe, so he attempts something easy.

"It's called a... peanut butter, banana, and Cheerio's sandwich. When Kurt was a little younger than you are now, he spent a month eating nothing but these for breakfast. He called it a 'P-nana-o Sammich.'"

Sarah giggles at Burt's best attempt at baby talk.

"Watch here. You lay the slices of bread out and you spread peanut butter on both of them. You have to use the knife for the peanut buttr first so you don't get banana in the jar. That's a very important step that took Kurt weeks to master. Next, you slice the banana over one of the of the slices of bread. Then, you take a box of Cheerio's and you pour the cereal over the other slice. Last, you crush the two slices of bread together as fast as you can so nothing falls out." Burt presents a perfect P-nana-o Sammich, "Try it."

Sarah takes a bite and ends up with a sample of each ingredient speckling her beaming face, "Mmmm!"

"Good. Now you try making one."

She does fine under Burt's occassional guidance until the last step. "Oops, I wasn't fast enough."

"That's okay. Keep practicing. We'll give that one to Finn."

"P-nana-o Sammiches, Dad?"

"When Carole comes back you can have regular food again. Until then, eat your breakfast-dinner."

They do that. Sarah eagerly consumes three of the treats. Finn frowns at the flop that is his first sandwich, but follows the young girl's lead and just eats more. Kurt eats like a bird and Puck's stomach is still getting used to food, so they are satisfied with just one each before excusing themselves.

Kurt looks to his dad, wondering if he remembers making the vow to stick to him like glue just that morning, but the man makes no protest.

They reach the basement and pause. This is usually the part where they make out, but that is so not an option for the foreseeable future, so it's just awkward.

After the momentary silence, they both speak at once, Kurt offering, " How about that shower?" and Puck asking, "What happened last night?"

"Shower first?" Kurt requests.

Kurt's already closing off and it disappoints Puck.

Upon seeing that written on Puck's face, Kurt compromises, "Or, bath during?"

"You're cool with that?"

"I'm gonna' have to admit to it at some point. It might as well be now."

"No, I mean, you're cool with being around a naked dude?"

"Oh. I don't know. I think so."

Reasonably, Puck looks unconvinced.

"Well, I haven't tried. If I can't handle it, I'll leave. No harm in trying."

Puck's pretty sure there can be a lot of harm in trying, but arguing with Kurt never got him anywhere, so he just shrugs and walks into the bathroom. Kurt follows and remains perfecty calm as Puck undresses. He starts the water, plugs the drain, and makes himself comfortable on the toilet seat.

Puck hesitates when he's just in his boxers.

"Did it shrink?"

"Huh?"

"Did your dick turn green and now you're afraid to show me?" He's teasing him. Kurt is teasing him, and that's pretty normal, so he must be okay.

A smug smile in place, Puck slides the underwear off and stands bare before Kurt.

Kurt looks thoughtful for a moment, then smiles, "I'm fine."

Puck steps into the water and groans, "I really needed this."

Kurt grabs a washcloth, wets it, and lathers it with exfoliating body wash. He rubs it over Puck's back, massaging the grime away in tiny cirlces and eliciting another groan. Kurt takes his time on the shoulders, arms, chest, and stomach, loving how easily he can make Puck feel good, comfortable, happy.

"Dunk your head in the water so I can wash your hair."

Puck hasn't groomed in a while, so there's actually hair. He does as he's told, always having loved Kurt's fingers on his scalp.

Kurt hands over the washcloth to let Puck finish scrubbing at his lower half and, assuming Puck doesn't want his head to smell like magoes, squirts some of Finn's two-in-one shampoo and conditioner onto Puck's stubby locks. He starts gently, covering the hair in suds, then rubs them deep into the scalp as Puck moans his appreciation.

Kurt leans Puck's head back. Protecting the jock's eyes with one hand, Kurt fills a cup and pours it over the soapy hair until all the bubbles are cleansed.

Kurt sits back on his heels and nibbles on his lip. He hadn't meant for the ministrations to be a stall tactic, but they worked as such, and now there's nothing left to do but...

"So, you gonna' tell me what happened last night?"

"Yes." He has to. Noah deserves at least that much. Pushing him away has only hurt him. No more secrets.

"Before the water gets cold?" It's a joke, meant to lighten the mood, and oops, Kurt had been stalling again.

"Yeah, sorry, I..." He might as well just show him. He unfastens his pants and slides them down.

Puck is shocked, not at the injuries because the lowering denim hasn't revealed that yet, but that Kurt is actually stripping in front of him. It's like every Lifetime movie has set up this precedent that Kurt, in typical Kurt fashion, naturally defies. He wants to voice something along these lines, make sure Kurt is really okay with this, but that didn't exactly work out last time, so he just watches. He watches as a large white bandage comes into view.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Was that from the attack? Puck didn't remember his leg getting hurt. No, it happened last night. Was he attacked again? Oh, God, no one's told him what happened to that bastard. Did he come back? No, not possible. Someone would have told him.

In answer, Kurt carefully peels off the bandage... to reveal cat scratches?

Kurt's looking at Puck expectantly, and Puck isn't sure why, "What... what are those?"

Kurt sighs, 'Why can't this just be over with?' "Last night... I sat in that tub... with a needle..." It's as far as he gets, and it's as far as he needs to.

Puck leaps from the tub, because he really doesn't want to be sitting there anymore, and he needs to make sure Kurt's okay because _Kurt wouldn't do this_.

Puck's kneeling before him, dripping wet and completely naked and he's just studying those wounds like they can explain themselves, and Kurt is mortified.

Puck reaches out a finger and touches one of the scratches (the first one, the one that started it all) and Kurt hisses in pain.

"I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Kurt yanks his pants back up. He wishes he hadn't done that. He wishes he hadn't shown Puck. He wishes he hadn't marred his skin in the first place.

And then,_ that _question: "Why would you do this to yourself?"

He feels himself closing off, knows he wants to close himself off, so he can't explain the words that come forth, "I'm really messed up, Noah!"

"Come here," Puck gently tugs at Kurt's arm until he's curled up in Puck's damp lap.

Kurt grips Puck's shoulders to ground himself as he falls apart.

Puck holds him, close but gentle, and murmurs comfort into his hair, "It's okay. I'm here now. I'll get you through this. I love you. Everything will be okay."

Kurt lets himself believe him. When he's recovered, he feels a desperate need to convince Puck of what he's been trying to get everyone to see. He meets Puck's eyes and vows, "I'm never doing it again."

"I believe you." It's said so easily Kurt trusts he really does believe him.

"Thank you." Kurt is overcome with the feeling of "How Could I Ever Have Let This Man Go?" and it makes him want to cry all over again. Instead of tears, words spill out, straight from the heart, "I'm sorry I messed us up. I shouldn't have pushed you away, or kicked you out. I shouldn't have said I didn't love you; that was so hurtful. I shouldn't have doubted you when you said you loved me. I've just got a lot of issues... that I'm working through."

"Apology accepted."

'Ugh, why does Puck have to be so perfect? I haven't even explained myself yet!' "I let what he said get to my head, that fa-homosexuality is wrong and would end up hurting you." Puck looks like he's about to protest, so Kurt plows on, "I know that was wrong now! Or, at least I'm getting there. I'm seeing a psychologist, Dr. Kymbal, and she says I'm getting there. I still have a lot of stuff to work through, and a lot of stuff I haven't even begun to process, but I'm geting there. I've healed enough to know I love you."

Puck lets the speech settle. He's stll surprised Kurt would open up so much, and no less grateful for being let back into Kurt's life. "Thank you for telling me."

Kurt nods as he relaxes into Puck's hold. He's said enough for now. He's earned a break.

Puck shivers. Poor naked, damp Puck.

"Oh, Noah, we need to get you dressed!" Kurt jumps up, grabs his towel, and tosses it over Puck's shoulders.

After a quick towel-down, Puck wraps the terrycloth around his waist and follows Kurt out of the bathroom.

"Dad!"

Kurt's yelp has Puck following Kurt's eyeline... to Burt stretched out on Kurt's bed watching a muted basketball game on TV.

"I said like glue, Kiddo."

Puck glances down at his state of undress, then back up at the infamously protective Mr. Hummel, and finds he can't move.

"You gonna' put some pants on, Kid?"

That unfreezes Puck. He bursts into Kurt's walk-in closet and shuts the door

Burt shakes his head, "His clothes aren't even in there."

"Dad, we were just talking. Nothing more."

"I know. I heard."

"Oh..." Awkward.

"Look at it this way. Consider today's debriefing covered."

Kurt just nods.

Burt sighs at his son's nervousness, "Kurt, last night, you scared me like you won't ever know. I'm still recovering, and hell, I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. You keep talking, and you come to us when you need help, and you'll earn your privacy back."

It's a fair deal. Kurt actually makes eye contact when he nods this time.

"I'm proud of you for telling Noah. I know that must have been difficult."

Hey, an in, "Dad, I know I'm probably pushing my luck, but since Noah's here, I won't be alone if I sleep down here."

Burt considers the point. He really is just trying to do best by his kid and he really doensn't have an instruction manual. "You've got Sarah"

Sharing a bed with your boyfriend and his sister is awkward. Add to it the knowledge that tonight's probably the night that the nightmares will return, the nightmares about the horrible thing that happened to you that they both witnessed, and you're close to where Kurt's at.

"If you don't get in quick, Sarah's gonna' claim the middle." Puck slips under the sheets on the far side of the bed.

Kurt lies in the midle of the bed, "Won't she want to sleep next to you?"

"Nah, I'm old news."

"But, everything's new tonight. Won't she want that bit of familiarity?"

"Just trust me."

Sure enough, as Sarah descends the stairs, she announces, "I want to sleep next to Kurt!" Puck knows his Bucket.

"There's your spot," Puck points to the other side of the bed.

Sarah hops in, "This is so cool! It's like a sleepover, but with boys!"

"Hey! Don't you be thinking about those just yet."

"I'm not a baby, Noah," the eye-rolling doesn't really help her case for maturity.

"You, Bucket, will always be my baby sister."

Sarah looks like she's about to argue, so Kurt pipes in, "Noah's right. You'll always be our baby sister."

Suddenly Sarah doesn't care about the baby part. The guy whom she has looked up to since Puck first brought him home, since he first taught her how to sew the ripped seem on her favorite shirt, since he fist complimented the color pallet in her room, just called her his sister and she's beaming.

Puck chuckles at how easily his sister falls for Kurt's charms. He'll have to ask for pointers. For now, he just folds his arms around Kurt and spoons him close, "It's good to have you back."

"I missed you."

Sarah looks a little left out, so Kurt opens his own arms until she cuddles into his chest.

It's warm and soft, and the term "Kurt Sandwich with Pucker-bread" comes to Puck's mind. They quickly fall into the most comfortable sleep any of them has had in over a week.


	10. Chapter 10

It's past midnight by the time Carole gets home, but Burt has waited up for her in their room.

He puts his book down and slides his reading glasses onto the nightstand. "How'd it go?"

Carole sighs and collapses onto the bed, "She hasn't had any luck finding a second part-time job, she thinks she's completely failed as a mother this week, and she blames herself for what happened to Kurt."

"That bad?"

"I couldn't leave her like that. I waited for her to fall asleep, and I'm going over there first thing tomorrow. I'm worried for her."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Burt starts massaging her nearest shoulder.

Carole spins to present her whole back, "How do you always know exactly what I need?"

Burt sits up to get a better angle, "Just lucky, I guess."

"How are the kids?"

"I'm sure you saw Finn's got the couch again. Poor kid. We need to get him a bed... and a room to put it in. The rest of them are in the basement."

"You've got Sarah in with Noah and Kurt?"

"We don't have enough beds in this house. It was that or keep her up with me."

"I'm sure she's also an effective deterrent."

"It crossed my mind that she might prevent them from feeling pressured into doing anything this soon... but I honestly don't think I'll have to worry about that for a while." Burt's saddened by this. Of course he doesn't want his son having sex, but he never wanted him to fear it.

Carole grasps the hand currently working on her left shoulder, "There's no need to worry about that now. He hasn't shown any fear of intimacy. Let's not jump the gun here."

There's nothing more for either of them to say on that, so they fall into a comfortable silence. Burt massages, trying to put as much gratitude and love into each press of a finger, then decides words are just as important. "Carole, I want to thank you for all you've done for us this week. Kurt loves you, and the cooking, and just being there... I don't know what I would have done without you."

Carole turns around and locks their lips in a firm and meaningful kiss. "We're family now, Burt." It's all she has to say.

Puck gasps awake, terrified that Kurt is dead, and having the boy in question clutched to his chest is the most relieving feeling in the world. Every other time he's had to mentally scramble to separate reality from his horrible imagination, and now here Kurt is: living, breathing proof that Puck's world hasn't ended.

"Noah?" a small, sleepy voice croaks from the far side of the bed.

'Shit, Bucket's always been a light sleeper.' "Go back to sleep."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a bad dream. I'm going back to sleep now."

The room falls silent. Puck listens to Kurt's steady breathing.

Kurt whimpers. It's a soft sound, and Puck would have missed it had he not been listening so intently. Whimpering is bad: Kurt is having a nightmare.

The moan of despair that passes through Kurt's lips is slightly louder, and just when Puck starts to hope Sarah is sleeping through this, she speaks up, "Is Kurt okay?"

"He's just having a nightmare." Puck strokes his hand down Kurt's arm, "Shh, it's okay, Baby. You can wake up."

Kurt's choked sob proves the tactic isn't working.

Sarah looks at Kurt worriedly, "Is it about Isaac?"

Kurt trembles.

"Shh, Sarah, we don't say his name anymore. Come on, Kurt, wake up."

Sarah clasps Kurt's hand in her own, "It's okay, Kurt. The bad man can't get you here. We'll protect you."

The whimpering stops but Kurt's breaths are still coming in little gasps. Still, Sarah seems to be onto something.

Puck's grip on Kurt's shoulder is firm and gentle, "Yeah, we've got you. We won't let anyone hurt you."

Kurt covers Pucks' hand with his own. His eyes don't open, but when he whispers, "Noah?" he sounds hopeful.

"Yeah, Baby, it's me. I've got you. I love you. You're safe."

Kurt's whole body relaxes against Puck's, his breathing steadies, and a small smile forms on his face as he returns to a peaceful sleep.

Puck kisses his temple then turns to his sister, "Thank you, Bucket."

She beams back at him, then, still holding Kurt's hand, falls back to sleep.

Kurt wakes up surrounded by Puckermans. The thought amuses him so he laughs, and now he's surrounded by waking Puckermans.

Sarah yawns, "Good morning, Kurt!"

Kurt smiles back at her, "Morning, Bucket."

Puck's greeting is to squeeze Kurt to him and nuzzle his neck.

Kurt's sigh is contented, "Good morning, Noah."

Sarah asks, "Kurt, did you sleep better?"

"Hmm?" Kurt's in a blissful haze.

"You had a nightmare."

Blissful haze over.

Puck speaks up, "Bucket, why don't you see if Carole needs help with breakfast? And, make sure Finn's awake." 'That should keep her occupied.'

With Sarah out of the room, Kurt succumbs to the mortification and covers his face in his hands, "Sarah had to see one of my nightmares?"

"I think we can blame your dad for that one."

"Noah!"

"What? Kurt, she's fine. She's the one who figured out how to help you."

The hands fly from his face, "She had to help me with one of my nightmares?"

"She just held your hand. It wasn't bad. In fact, I think she feels pretty proud about it."

"Oh, God."

"Kurt, you didn't even say anything."

"Nothing?"

"Well..."

"Well?"

"At the end, when you were happier, you said my name. That was pretty awesome."

Kurt looks lost in thought for a moment, then gasps, "I remember! He was there, and then you two were instead. You protected me."

"See? We're badasses. It's all good. Now let's eat breakfast. I'm starving."

"I... thank you, Noah. For being here. Your sister, too."

Puck shrugs, "Of course."

Kurt watches Puck stand from the bed, stretch his arms above his head, wince as a shoulder pops, and change into jeans and an old tank top. He's ripped from his dreamy gaze by Puck's playful threat, "Don't make me carry you upstairs."

Oh, he's still in bed. Kurt gives his best solemn voice, "I'm afraid you may have to, Noah Puckerman, if you want to make it to breakfast on time."

Puck smiles. It's a game they've often played, a excuse for physical closeness. He slides his arms under Kurt's body and scoops the smaller boy to his chest. Kurt wraps his arms around Puck's broad shoulders and nuzzles into his neck, breathing in the scent, "I love you, Noah."

"I love you, too, Kurt." Puck's very tempted to fall back into bed and just hold Kurt some more, but he wasn't joking about starving. He carries Kurt up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Carole is making scrambled eggs for breakfast. Sarah is in charge of cracking eggs into a bowl and fishing out the occasional bit of shell. Finn is zoning out at the table, drool sliding down his chin as he grumbles about uncomfortable couches and being awake.

Puck sets Kurt down on the counter, kisses his forehead, and turns to the cooking duo, "Need some help?"

Carole's smile is grateful, "Good morning, Boys. If you could grab some plates, the eggs are almost ready."

Puck sets a stack of plates by the stove as Kurt lifts his legs to grab the forks from the drawer below him. The boys set the table and breakfast is served.

"Noah, you have more ketchup on your plate than eggs," Kurt scolds.

"What? It tastes good!"

"It's terrible for you."

"It's just ketchup!"

"Which is full of sugar and sodium. Look at your sister: just a little pepper and she's enjoying her meal."

"That's because _someone_ has been warning her about the side-effects of taste."

"Of junk food, Noah, and, we're both going to live healthy, long lives, aren't we, Bucket?"

Sarah nods happily.

Kurt puts his hand over his heart dramatically, "At least _one_ of her brothers will be around." A glob of ketchup smacks into his cheek. Kurt is momentarily stunned, then turns his eyes to find Puck, fork-catapult still in hand, "You are removing that _now_!"

"Oh, no! Evil ketchup is going to destroy you with salty, sugary flavor!"

"Noah!"

Puck grabs a napkin and wipes the offending goop away, then plants a wet kiss to the spot to ensure a thorough clean.

Kurt dabs the saliva from his face, "With all the ketchup you've put in that mouth your kiss probably just added more to my face."

"Nah-uh," Puck sticks out his tongue, proving it to be free of food particles.

Kurt bursts out laughing at the sight, which convinces Sarah to join in, and Puck can't help but follow suit.

Carole watches the three happy children and it warms her heart. She gets an idea, "Kids, I was thinking of visiting your mom today. I'm sure she'd love to see your smiling faces."

"Mommy!" Sarah is immediately onboard.

Puck turns to Kurt, who tells him, "You should go see your mom."

"If I'm going, you're going."

"Okay, we'll go." Kurt turns to Carole, "Just give us a bit to get ready?"

"Of course. I'll take care of the dishes."

When Puck, Kurt, and Sarah retreat back down to the basement, Carole is left alone... with Finn.

He's still staring off into space, his eggs untouched. A puddle of drool has formed on the table. His eyes, full of confusion, meet his mother, "Why am I awake?"

Carole taps his cheek, "Go back to sleep, Honey."

His forehead meeting the table, Finn does just that.

Kurt sits at his vanity among his vast collection of cosmetics. It has been too long since he touched them, and he's certain his face has suffered irreparable damage because of it. Kurt actually moans as the cleansing pad touches his cheek.

Puck chuckles, "Come on, Bucket. This is going to take a while. Let's pick out what Kurt's going to wear today."

He leads her into the closet and she gasps, "There are so many clothes!"

The compromise between the two becomes a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a lavender shirt, which Kurt will wear together simply to be nice. The Puckermans have come to agreements too quickly, however, because now that they're completely ready to go and Kurt is still going through his morning skin care routine, they're bored.

Kurt picks up a small tub of white cream and, as children do when they are seeking entertainment, Sarah asks, "What's that?"

An oil-free moisturizer," Kurt responds promptly. Then, as he realizes her motives, he adds, "Would you like to try some?"

Sarah runs to his vanity, "Yes, please!"

Kurt smears a bit on each of her cheeks, "Now rub it in."

Sarah's untrained hands rub all over her face, as if applying sunscreen, "What's this do?"

"It keeps your skin soft."

"Like baby bottoms?"

Kurt isn't thrilled with the comparison, "... Like flower petals."

Sarah is sent upstairs so Kurt can get dressed. Puck brings him a pair of black boots and Kurt keeps the 'Why the hell not?' internal.

With Kurt fully dressed, Puck kisses his cheek and declares, "Soft as a flower's bottom."

When they step out the front door, Kurt tucks himself under Puck's arm and wraps his arms tightly around Puck's waist. Puck can feel the smaller boy tremble.

"Hey, Kurt, we don't have to do this," Puck whispers so Carole and Sarah don't hear from their position ahead on the walkway. "We can march right back inside and spend the day watching TV."

"No, I- I need to do this. I can't spend my whole life in that damn house."

"It's only been a week."

"I'll be fine. Let's just get to the car."

Carole unlocks the car to let the kids in, then goes back to lock up the house. As she passes the obviously distressed Kurt, her worry shows on her face, but Puck just offers her a reassuring smile and walks his boyfriend to the Hudson minivan.

When Carole slides back into the driver's seat, Kurt seems significantly calmer, buckled in and still holding onto Puck. The walk from the car to the front door is marginally easier, but Carole still wants to bring the issue up with Dr. Kymbal next they meet.

When Rebekah answers the door, she wants to cry. Her babies have returned to her and she hasn't improved one bit. She hasn't eaten, the food she'd unloaded yesterday is still sitting next to the grocery bag on the kitchen table. She hasn't changed her clothes, put on makeup, or God, even showered. She's a mess! She just needed a little more time. Her kids aren't supposed to see her like this!

Carole sees the fear in Rebekah's eyes and suddenly doubts her genius plan, "Sorry to spring them on you. They just missed you."

"Mommy!" Sarah wraps herself around her mother's waist, "I learned how to make a P-nana-o Sammich and Finn said a bad word so he got the messy one and Kurt and Noah let me have a sleepover with them and Kurt called me his baby sister but I'm not a baby. Then Kurt had a bad dream and I held his hand just like you did when I had bad dreams and Noah and I made him all better. Then this morning he let me try his face thing and my skin's soft like flowers! Isn't that awesome, Mommy?"

Rebekah does her best to take in every word. Her daughter is happy, smiling, healthy, not withering away before the TV. Not miserable because of that man she'd brought home. "That's great, Sweety." Rebekah looks to her son, who is smirking at the enthusiastic Sarah.

When he feels his mother's stare he looks up at her and his face becomes serious, though not unhappy, "Hey, Mom."

Kurt tugs at the front of Puck's shirt, "Noah..."

Rebekah hears the fear in his voice, sees his eyes dart up and down the street, and has one more thing to feel guilty for, "I'm sorry! Come in!" Rebekah walks her still-attached daughter back into the house, and Carole lets Kurt drag Puck through the door before she shuts and locks it.

"You kids go play. I want to talk with your mom."

Sarah is young enough to be fooled into thinking it's just two friends catching up, but the boys notice the thinly-veiled worry in Carole's tone, and the shame in Rebekah's posture.

"Come on, Bucket," Kurt holds out his arm to her, his other still tightly wound around Puck's waist. They close themselves in Finn's room, where Kurt works to entertain Sarah and distract Puck from his mother's pain.

Rebekah lets a single tear fall, "They look so much better now."

Carole knows this conversation isn't going to be any easier than last night's. At least she can be comfortable. "Come, sit." She leads Rebekah to the kitchen chairs.

"What did you do for them in one night that I couldn't do in a whole week?"

Carole takes Rebekah's hand, hoping the spark of jealousy doesn't turn her against the one friend reaching out to her. "I didn't do anything, Rebekah. I was here all night, remember? They handled it all by themselves. When Kurt and Noah broke up, they were sad, which made Sarah sad. Now they're back together and they're healing. It's how kids are. They heal, but they also need to grieve. You gave them that time. You didn't demand they bottle up their feelings, so they were able to be sad when they needed to be sad, and now they can heal. Now you all can heal." Carole mentally prepared a few speeches in bed last night. She watches Rebekah for a reaction.

Rebekah just shakes her head, "You make it sound so easy."

"You _make_ it easy. Your children need you, because despite what you've been telling yourself, you are a good mother. Noah and Sarah are good kids and they love you."

"I failed them."

"You need to let go of this guilt. It's just poisoning you."

Rebekah just shakes her head.

"You have not failed them. Did you hear what Sarah did for Kurt? How she held his hand to stave off a nightmare the way _you_ showed her? She's a sweet and wonderful little girl whose only goal in life is to help people and _you_ made her that way. And Noah is so loving and supportive. Don't you say you failed your kids. Those children are not failures."

It's all to much. Seeing her kids, seeing Kurt, the guilt... Rebekah can't handle it anymore. She drops her face in her hands and bawls.

Carole can see this will be a long conversation.

"More tea, Lady Bucket?" Kurt fills Sarah's cup for the sixth time, then adds the water to Barbie's and Lord Teddy's cups for good measure.

"Why, thank you," Sarah's attempt at a proper British accent isn't nearly as passable as it is adorable. It's been years since she's had a tea party, but some of her toys had magically shown up in Finn's room and Kurt had promised to make her look sophisticated with the stuff in her dress-up box, so she agreed. He dressed her in her fanciest skirts and blouses, layering them for a luxurious effect, and covered her wrists in a rainbow of plastic bracelets. Thus she has become Lady Bucket and her dolls are well-entertained.

As soon as the sixth cup is emptied down her throat, Sarah's eyes go wide. She takes a quick bow, announces, "If you'll excuse me, please," and dashes to the bathroom.

Kurt turns to Puck, "While she's gone, I need to bounce an idea off of you."

"Wait," a smirk slowly forms on Puck's face, "did you just force-feed my sister six cups of water just to get a moment alone?"

"Is that bad?"

"Are you kidding? You don't even have a sibling and you're already a pro."

"Well, I only put on so many layers, so I don't project we have more than five minutes."

"Listening."

"I want to talk with your mother."

"Uh... okay," because, what else do you say to that?

"I know you saw her. She's dealing with a lot right now."

"Umm, so are you."

Kurt rolls his eyes, "You sound like my shrink."

Puck's pretty sure that's a bad thing.

Kurt grabs Puck's hand and leads him from the room, "Come on. Time is of the essence."

When Kurt gets them to the kitchen, his nerve weakens. Rebekah is crying into a placemat and Carole is just rubbing her shoulder and maybe this isn't such a good idea.

Kurt knows all about self-blame, though, and if his few words can help, he'll say them. He clears his throat, "Mrs. Puckerman?"

Her head shoots up and she gasps, "Kurt?"

'Now or never.' "I just wanted to say... I don't remember a lot of what happened... after... but I remember you saved us. You made him stop and leave and you took me home, and I haven't thanked you yet for that, so thank you."

Rebakah can only nod, surprise written on her face.

"Hey!" an annoyed Sarah has just discovered she's been abandoned.

"We're coming, Bucket!" Puck figures his mother is horrified enough at one of her kids seeing her like this. He and Kurt make it upstairs before Sarah can make it down.

Rebekah stares at the drenched placemat before her, replaying Kurt's words in her mind. "He doesn't blame me."

"He's never blamed you, Rebekah. None of us have."

"I... was so sure..."

"Guilt makes us think funny things."

Rebekah nods and finally faces Carole, "Thank you for bringing them here."


	11. Chapter 11

Your reviews are wonderful! I thank you all so much!

Gah! I totally forgot to mention: my new Beta is LJ's Somzinglyme. They are amazing.

Burt descends the stairs with an uneasy feeling inside. Ever since he'd agreed to let Carole take the kids to see Rebekah (he'd have to have a word with her about requesting things before he's even lifted his head off the pillow), he's been uncomfortable. Of course he trusts Carole, but this isn't a well-researched psychiatrist's office with security cameras; this is an unprotected house, and it's so soon. He worries.

It's probably not too early to call over there and check on things. It's already been an hour. He picks up the living room extension and dials.

Carole answers on the second ring, "Hi, Burt, everything is fine."

Burt sighs, "Thank you, Carole."

"No problem. Kurt's upstairs with Sarah and Noah. I could get him for you if you like."

Burt considers whether or not he's being overbearing, then realizes he doesn't give a flying hoot, "Please?"

Carole tells Rebekah she'll be right back and Burt hears her feet climb the stairs. "Kurt? It's your dad."

"Hi, Dad."

Burt will never stop loving the sound of that voice. "Hey, Kiddo. How are things?"

"Exquisite. I'm attending a tea party and Lady Bucket is a wonderful host." Burt hears a door shut on Kurt's end before his son continues, "Why are you calling, Dad? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I was just... seeing how you were."

There's an awkward silence while they both realize how sly Burt isn't.

"Is your cell phone charged, Dad?"

"Yeah, I got it..." Burt taps his pockets, then realizes it's in the pants he wore yesterday. Kurt doesn't need to know that.

"I'll text you. And if you text me, I'll text you back within thirty seconds."

'He gets it.' "Thanks, Kurt."

The first text arrives five minutes later: "The bratz girls entered the party and barbie noticed ken giving them the eye. Drama!"

The simple message fills Burt with comfort and pride. That's _his son_, hilarious and smart and trying to put his old man at ease. He hasn't engaged in a battle of the wits with his son since the kid was six, but figures he might as well: "Never trust a man with plastic hair."

As promised, the response is prompt: "I'm sure it's organic plastic."

Burt decides he'll leave his son alone for now. His stomach leads him to the kitchen where he finds Finn, asleep at the table in a puddle of drool.

"How come I feel like I've been left in charge of the B Team?" Burt figures the aromas of bacon and eggs will awaken the late and oddly-placed riser. He's wrong. It takes the loud clang of the plate against the table just in front of the sleeping face for Finn to awaken with a soggy snort.

"How ya' doin'?" Burt doesn't even try to conceal his amusement.

"...Tired..."

"Yeah, you haven't been able to sleep well lately, have you?"

Finn shakes his head and lazily rubs sleep from his eye. Upon noticing the bacon before him, he fully awakens and eagerly tears in.

Burt chuckles, "I've been thinking about getting you a bed, maybe putting it up in Kurt's old room. I know it's small and I still owe you that addition, but you need a place to lay your head that's not built for sitting."

Finn beams through a mouthful of egg, "Thanks, Mr. Hummel!"

"No problem. How about when you're done here you go hop on your computer over there. Look at Oakmoore's site, and if you find something and we order it before noon we get same day delivery."

Finn is excited at the prospect of legitimately sleeping again, but not so excited he'd abandon his food. He finishes his plate in three substantial gulps and is scanning through images of furniture in seconds. Finn's a pretty easy-going guy, so he finds "the one" about five minutes later. When he calls Burt over, a platinum credit card drops into his lap, and he realizes this is why Kurt's wardrobe is so impressive.

The doorbell rings and Burt looks around to check that Kurt's okay... before remembering Kurt isn't even in the house. Burt makes a mental note to text Kurt again before answering the door.

"Mr. Hummel?" A twenty-something-year-old in too expensive a suit sticks his hand out to shake before Burt's identity is even confirmed.

Burt hesitates before taking the offered appendage, "Yeah, and you are?"

"Scott McAbee. I'm the attorney representing the People in the case against Isaac Goldman. May I come in?"

Burt winces at the name of his son's attacker, but the lawyer doesn't know that particular rule of omission, so Burt gives him another chance and allows him in.

Scott notices Finn on the couch, "Is that Kurt?"

"Uh, no, he's not home right now. Why?"

"I was hoping to discuss the case with him."

"I'm not sure he'd be up to that."

"I'm going to need every detail I can get if we're going to win this case. Surely your son can understand that."

"And surely you understand that he's my son and it's my decision to make."

"I'm sorry. It seems we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm just trying to do what's best for your son."

"And you think I'm not?" Burt's about half a second from kicking the suit out the door.

"I think we each have different jobs to do. Mine is getting Kurt justice and putting the man who hurt him behind bars so he can't do it again."

Burt can't exactly hate the sound of that. "Want some coffee?" If Burt's going to be level headed, he's going to need a minute to cool off and it's going to need to be away from the suit.

Scott seems smart enough to understand that. "Yes, please."

As he walks into the kitchen, Burt takes his cell out of his pocket and sends off another message to his son: "Is ken behaving himself?"

"Bucket has taken ken as her own, but considering their relationship, it's more like he entered a priesthood than adultery."

Kurt's okay. So long as that's true, Burt can do just about anything.

Scott stands awkwardly, abandoned in the entryway. He turns about on bobbing feet to see the kid who supposedly isn't Kurt staring at him with a facial expression somewhere between nervousness and confusion.

"Hi," Scott points to the chair next to the couch, "mind if I join you?"

"Uh... no?" Finn isn't sure if Burt accepted the man or not.

Scott sits, "What's your name?"

"Finn... Hudson."

"Hi, Finn, I'm Scott."

"Is this where you ask me questions about Kurt? Because, I'm not really comfortable with that."

"We don't have to, if you don't want to. It would help if we did, though."

"I'm not-"

"Do you know what happened to Kurt?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Do you want it to happen again?"

"No!"

"Then I'm going to need all the information I can get."

"Hey, just because you can't harass one of my kids, you go after the other?" Burt stomps out of the kitchen, mug in hand, "Finn, go check out your new room"

"Yes, Sir!" Finn bounds up the first three steps, then pauses. He hasn't been upstairs all that often, "Umm, which-"

"First door on the left," Burt doesn't take his eyes off Scott.

Scott doesn't seem intimidated. "Is that my coffee?"

"Yours is percolating." Burt takes a scalding gulp.

"Mr. Hummel, you don't seem to grasp that we're on the same side here."

"That doesn't give you the right to interrogate my kids."

"They're almost seventeen years old, hardly kids. Surely you trust them to make their own decisions."

Burt lets his glare linger, then plainly informs, "I don't like you much, Scott."

"You don't have to. You just have to know that I'm the best man for the job. I have never lost a case once it's gone to trial, and I'm confident I'll win this one."

"Then what do you need our help for?"

"Mr. Hummel, did you watch the news this morning?"

No, for the first time, he hadn't. Kurt wasn't here.

"The defense is painting your son to be a sinner attacking an honest, God-fearing man with hateful lies. The media is eating it up."

"What? No! They can't-"

"You're irate. I understand. I am, too. We can't let another rapist walk free while the public blames the victim. We can't let Isaac Goldman regain his police powers in your son's hometown."

It's not that Burt wants to relent to the man, but when his son's welfare is mentioned, he's kind of easy to manipulate. "Fine. But you talk to me. You leave my kids out of this."

"I'll let you talk to your kids."

"All right. What do you need from me?"

"Do you know if Isaac ever threatened your son before the assault?"

"No, I... never heard-"

"So you're not sure. Ask your son later. Did Isaac threaten your son's life during the assault?"

"He put a gun to his head," his hard exterior cracks a bit as he utters those words.

"How long? Did he just do it once?"

"I don't- I'll ask."

"Did he actually say he wanted to kill your son?"

"I'll ask."

"Do you know what happened to the condom?"

These questions are painful, but it would be more painful to know his son was hearing them from this complete stranger. "I'll ask."

"Can your son remember any identifying marks that could prove he saw Isaac naked?"

That one makes Burt have to swallow down bile before he can repeat, "I'll ask."

"So far it doesn't seem like you know much more than is in the police report."

This makes sense. The only time Burt had really heard about it was in front of the police, aside from his son's belated confession about the gun.

Scott continues, "The trial starts in two days. The faster I get the information, the better."

"I'll talk with him as soon as he gets home."

"Okay. I've got a few more. Is it true your son is in a romantic relationship with the other victim?"

"...Yes."

"Is it possible they had sex that day?"

"Hey, Noah did not do that to him!"

"Please answer the question."

"I don't know."

"Is it possible Isaac walked in on Kurt and Noah having sex, came on too strongly about morals, and they concocted this to get back at him?"

"That's insane! My son would not lie. He was raped! We brought him to the hospital. He was bleeding, terrified. He can't fake that. I can't believe you'd suggest- We're done here! That's enough questions!"

Scott just sits calmly, "That's the exact reaction I need in that courtroom. The story I just told you is what Isaac is claiming happened, and it's what some people in this jury pool would want to believe. I need that irrefutable conviction, along with every fact I can get, if we're going to win this case."

Carole gets Rebekah smiling again. She's not exactly happy yet, but she's letting go of some of the guilt so she can move past hating herself and start healing herself.

"So," Rebekah hesitates, "Kurt and Noah... They're good together?"

"Perfect. They're in love and so good for each other."

Rebekah nods, pleased yet saddened by how removed she is from her son's life.

"It's easier with Kurt. He's chatty. Finn's another story. Sometimes I'll go for weeks before finding out Finn's gotten a solo or a girlfriend. I had to go to his first game to find out he'd made quarterback! It's just typical boys - they don't talk. Now that you've proven your support for them, and I know you have because they are themselves around you, Kurt will talk with you, too, and keep you up to date on your son. It's why we let our sons date. Trust me, he'll take one look at your closet and you'll become one of his girlfriends."

Rebekah laughs, "I'd like that."

"So would he. Now, you eat that sandwich," Carole points at the meal she'd prepared for her.

"Thank you, Carole. For... everything."

"It's not a problem. I should probably get the boys back, though. And Sarah?"

"Just for one more day?"

"Sure." Carole grabs the kids as Rebekah eats the most delicious turkey sandwich ever to touch her tongue.

"Bye, Mommy!" Sarah slams her body into her mother's in a hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetheart," Rebekah kisses her daughter's head.

She has to stand to hug her tall son, who looks relieved upon seeing her. When Puck releases her, he tells her, "I love you, Mom."

She hasn't heard him speak those words in over a decade, "I love you, too, Noah."

Kurt walks up to her and offers a shy smile. She opens her arms hopefully and Kurt falls into a quick, light embrace.

Carole herds her small pack back to the minivan. Puck and Kurt hold each other in the back as Sarah sits up with her and regales her with the tale of her fancy party.

The need to not be outside has Kurt enter the house first, closely followed by Puck, attached to his hand.

Kurt turns toward the sound of voices to see a strange man in his home, his sanctuary. Stranger. He can't protect himself. Stranger might hurt him. Kurt pushes himself into Puck's body, clings, trying to climb up the boy for safety, "Noah!"

Puck holds his boyfriend close, but it takes a second for the reason to click. Leaning down, he scoops Kurt's knees up and carries him into the basement.

Burt looks horrified. He turns to Scott, "You need to leave now. I shouldn't have let you in here in the first place. I'll call you."

"I'll wait in my car." Scott's sort of relentless.

Burt races downstairs, "Kurt? Noah?"

Noah's, "We're here," comes from the closet. Burt cautiously approaches the slightly ajar door to see his trembling son held protectively in Puck's lap.

"Ah, Jeez, Kiddo, I'm sorry." Burt slips inside, flips on the light, and shuts the door. He seats himself between his son's knees and a stack of shoes and takes Kurt's hand, "It's okay, he's gone. He's not gonna' hurt you. He's not coming back in this house. I promise not to let anyone you don't know into this house."

Kurt nods, somewhat calmed by his father's words.

Puck plants gentle kisses to Kurt's forehead, "Who was he, anyway?"

"A lawyer. The one on our side. He wanted to ask Kurt some questions, but that ain't gonna' happen."

"No," Kurt gets out through shaky breaths.

Burt squeezes Kurt's hand, "No what?"

Kurt shudders with the effort of remaining in control, of keeping the mini-panic attack at bay, "I can't... live in this fear. I need him behind bars and I need to do everything I can to put him there."

"Kurt, he asked me the questions he wants answered. You can just talk to me."

Kurt shakes his head, "I need to do this. I can't risk... anything."

"Okay, well, Son, I've got to warn you, he's kind of an asshole."

Kurt lets out a surprised laugh, not expecting that to be his father's protest. "I'm kind of a bitch."

"Well, if he asks you anything that pisses you off, you just let that out."

Kurt nods, smiling.

"Knowing that lawyer, he's probably still sitting in his car. You want me to go get him, have him wait in the living room?"

"Just... give me a minute?"

"You take all the time you need." Burt grunts as he hoists himself from the uncomfortable crouch. He watches Kurt lay his head against Puck's chest and close his eyes before heading upstairs. A quick peek out the window proves that, yes, Scott is sitting in his Mercedes, reading a book, waiting to grill Kurt.

"Burt?" Carole feels she's been patient long enough. Sarah is holding onto the hem of the woman's shirt, nervously darting her eyes between the basement and Burt at the window.

"Kurt's fine. He was just a little shook up by the stranger in his house."

Sarah nods, worrying her lip.

"Come here." When Sarah runs to him, Burt picks her up in a hug. "Everyone's okay. You see that man in the car? He's a lawyer and he's here to talk to Kurt. He's going to win our case for us. That's good, right?"

Sarah nods.

"Can you do me a favor now and go with Carole up to Finn's room, the first door on the left, and help him get the room ready? His bed should be arriving soon."

Sarah nods again, hops down, and lets Carole lead her upstairs.

Burt takes his time walking to the car parked on the curb. Scott notices him coming but doesn't acknowledge him until Burt raps his knuckles into the window. Scott presses a button and the window lowers. He'd just been out there with his car running the whole time, wasting gas, and Burt isn't impressed by the show of splendor.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel?"

"Good book?"

"It details the military strategies of the Persian Empire. Very interesting, care for a read?"

"I'll stick with the morning paper."

"You came out here to discuss literature?"

"I'm starting to think so."

"If your son wants to speak with me, you should let him."

"What makes you think he wants to?"

"You're hesitant. You'd have no problem telling me to leave."

"Yeah, you can quit with the Jedi mind tricks, and you keep your questions to the facts. Don't you dare ask if he faked all this. I'm not above kicking you out twice."

Scott gracefully rises from his car and leads the way back to the house.

Kurt and Puck are sitting on the couch, and when Burt lets Scott back in, Kurt tenses. Puck grabs Kurt's hand and the gesture eases the boy.

Burt places himself between the lawyer and his son, "Kurt, this is Scott, the lawyer. He'll ask you questions and it's up to you if you want to answer them."

Kurt nods, not sure how his father's distaste for the man in Armani will play out. "Dad, could you sit next to me?" That should calm things.

Burt plops down on the couch cushion nearest the chair, which doesn't deter Scott from pointing to that chair and asking, "May I sit?" He doesn't wait for a response, which is fortunate because Burt doesn't offer one.

"Hi, Kurt. I'm Scott." The lawyer wisely doesn't reach out to shake hands. "Is that Noah Puckerman?" At Puck's nod, Scott continues, "I was wondering where you'd gotten to. I have some questions for you, too. Since I know what happened was traumatic and trauma damages the memory, I'll ask you both all the questions and let you use each other as resources. Just be as honest and possible."

Kurt and Puck nod in unison.

Thankfully, Scott heeds Burt's warning and sticks to the facts, never once insinuating that the boys might be lying. They lose track of how long the interrogation goes for, but the whole time Carole, Finn, and Sarah dutifully remain upstairs out of earshot, and Puck and Kurt support each other through and through.

Scott sincerely thanks them for their time, which Burt hadn't seen coming, and is on the phone with his assistant before he's even out the door.

"You did good, you two," Burt nods his approval. Inside, he's still reeling. Apparently the true horror of a situation comes from the details. Knowing that Kurt had been in the middle of a romantic moment, almost naked, before it happened, and that he'd pleaded for the man not to hurt him, and that Puck had been only eight feet away, and that that gun was to his little boy's head the whole time... all makes it so much worse.

Kurt isn't crying, though, so neither will Burt.

The phone rings. Burt's right there, so he answers. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hummel?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You ordered a bed this morning? Our driver's on his way now."

"Ah, shit."

"Sir?"

"Could you hold on?" Burt lowers the phone and covers the receiver, "Kurt, I don't know where my head's been today. I ordered a bed for Finn and they're coming to deliver it now. I'm sorry."

"That's okay."

"No, I'll just have them bring it some other time."

"No, really, it will be good for me."

"I think you've been through enough today."

"Please, Dad?"

'Well, if you're going to look at me with _those_ eyes... "All right." He turns to Puck, "You stay with him."

As if that isn't already going to happen. Kurt decides to endure this trial in the kitchen, where he can watch everyone going between the front door and the stairs, without being in their path.

Men in gray coveralls walk in with large boxes, make loud drilling noises upstairs, and leave. With Puck's arm around him, it really isn't so bad. He can handle this.

Whitney Houston wails out of Kurt's ass. It's something his generation has grown accustomed to, so his only response is to pull out his cell phone and see who's calling. It's Mercedes, whom he hasn't spoke with for a ridiculous amount of time. If not for her newfound friendship with Quinn, she'd have gone nuts by now. Of course, that could be why she's calling.

"Hey, 'Cedes."

"Tell me why we haven't talked for a week."

"I'm sorry."

"Psh, I didn't say it was your fault. I can pick up a phone, too, but Boy, we are drifting. We need some Us Time, like yesterday."

"Totally," Kurt sighs, happy this isn't a lecture.

"Okay, I called you for something else, but hearing your voice made me realize it's been a while. Anyway, you're watching the news, right?"

He always watches the news... just, not now. "Oh, no."

"Really? Well, that does explain why you aren't pitching a mad fit. Get this: Blonde Bimbo Anchor Lady just talked about some kid in our town who got raped, and she was out trying to make it his fault 'cause the other dude is a cop! Can you believe that? They're saying he framed him; ain't no way!"

Mercedes may continue talking, but all Kurt can hear is the blood rushing to his ears.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you so much to all you amazing reviewers! You really make my day. :)

My Beta is LJ's Somzinglyme, and they are made of amazing.

Kurt clings the phone to his ear like a lifeline. Mercedes' words echo in his brain: kid, raped, cop... framed. No way... That can't be... That has to be his story. It hadn't occurred to him that his story would be on the news, and for it to be told like that? That he was framing _him_? That he made it up?

'Wait, why is Mercedes calling me about it?' "Did she say... who?"

"Nah, just that he goes to our school, poor kid. Wait, hold up. No, she did not! Oh my God, the reason she's giving for the kid to lie? He's gay. That don't make a damn bit of sense. See, this is why I don't watch the news. Just a bunch of haters. Can you believe this?"

"I..." Kurt can feel bile rising in his throat. He swallows it down with great effort.

Puck looks at him with worried eyes, but Kurt can't exactly tell him what's wrong. He can't even talk right now. Puck settles for rubbing Kurt's back until he can get answers.

Mercedes continues, "I knew you'd be pissed." Apparently in Mercedes' world, knowing a story will make someone pissed is all the more reason to tell them.

"I am," Kurt manages to get out.

"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry," Mercedes responds to Kurt's tightened tone. "I didn't know he was gay before or I'd have broken it to you more gently. I just assumed you'd be watching and we'd be pissed off together."

"It's okay. I'm just... really upset." Really, really upset.

"Want me to come over? I could bring my Johnny Depp collection."

Thoughts fly through Kurt's mind. 'I'm about to fall apart, and if Mercedes comes over, she'll see. She's seen it before. I really just need to fall in Noah's arms. Noah's here. Mercedes is going to get suspicious if he's here _again_. Oh, God, I lied to Mercedes. I could come clean now. I probably should come clean... about everything. She deserves to hear it from me before the whole town pieces it together. The whole town is going to piece it together. Everyone.'

"Are you still there?"

"Yeah! Yeah, please come over."

"Okay..."

"I'll see you in fifteen?"

"Kurt, I really am sorry about the news story."

The familiar overwhelming bubble of dread rises in Kurt's stomach.

"We'll talk about it when you get here. Bye!" Kurt hangs up, about four seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.

First, he must update Puck. "That was Mercedes. The story's on the news. They aren't saying it was me, but... they _are_ saying I made it all up." A choked sob is all the warning Puck gets before a trembling Kurt crashes into his chest.

Puck immediately brings his arms protectively around the boy as he processes the information. "That's... That's fucking _bullshit_! They can't- I'm so sorry, Kurt. It's gonna' be okay. That lawyer was a badass; he'll get the truth out. I mean, he'll clear your name and no one will know it was even you. No one. That bastard will go to jail and no one will ever know it was you."

Kurt is beyond any words of comfort right now. He's entered a full-blown panic attack, the first since he'd taken metal to skin and the strongest ever. He doesn't know how to handle it. He can't go back to what he did before.

'Everyone will know. They'll think I made it all up.'

Kurt doesn't even hear himself scream, a gut-wrenching shriek that has Puck's ears ringing and brings everyone else barreling down the stairs.

"What happened?" Burt looks around for a culprit as he rushes toward his son. Carole holds Sarah back by the stairs in case Burt finds one. Finn stands guard in the mid-point between his mother and Kurt.

"He got a call. The story's on the news. They're calling him a liar."

"Damn it." Burt had been hoping to spare his son from that. "_Who_ called him?"

"Mercedes. She didn't know it was about him."

Burt paces two steps, stops, covers his forehead with his hand, drops it, steps toward his son, turns back to Carole, and closes the distance between him and Kurt.

Kurt isn't aware of any of this. He doesn't feel the tremors race through his body or the tears slide down his cheeks or the way his breath hitches and halts. He doesn't notice his father rubbing soothing circles into his back or Puck picking him up and carrying him to the couch, holding him close. He's too consumed with the thought that Isaac Goldman will be found innocent. He'll be free. He'll be free to do it again. He'll be free to kill them.

Burt sits at his son's back and rubs more circles into it. There's nothing more to do. He just has to wait for his son to come around.

Sarah breaks from Carole's hold and leaps onto the couch. Seating herself next to her brothers, she grabs Kurt's hand in her own. It worked for the nightmare. It can work for this.

Finn hovers awkwardly over the back of the couch, a protective statue. He doesn't know what to do. Kurt's right there but he doesn't dare touch him, and he doesn't know what to say, but it's not like Kurt would hear him anyway. He feels Carole approach before he sees her. With all that's happening on the couch, she's looking at Finn. She opens her arms in invitation. Finn hesitates; he should be protecting. Carole takes another step toward him and the yearning for comfort becomes too strong for him to resist.

Kurt's uneven breathing causes an oxygen deprivation that steals his consciousness. His head falls back to his father's shoulder. His face looks peaceful as his body takes over and repairs the damage done by his mind, regulating the diaphragm and heartbeat and stilling his limbs. He's only out for a minute, but it does the trick.

Burt watches as Kurt's eyes flutter open and he can see the clouds have cleared. "Hey, Kiddo," Burt whispers. He rubs his hand up and down Kurt's arm, grounding him.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Dad, they're saying I lied. I didn't lie, Dad. How could they...?"

"I know. I know you didn't lie."

"But, they're saying I lied- about _that_. Everyone's gonna' know! They're gonna' know and they're gonna' think I lied!"

"Shh, hey, it's okay. You're a minor. You're protected. No one's gonna' know." The last thing Burt wants is for Kurt to relapse into another panic attack.

"Of course they'll know! Gay in Lima? Who else could it be? I can't go back to school; I can't leave this house. My life is over!"

"Hey, hey, come here." Burt tugs at his son until he's sitting in Puck's lap and twisted around to have his arms around Burt's neck.

His face safely hidden, Kurt cries out his misery.

Puck keeps his arms tightly around his boyfriend to keep him from slipping away, but is otherwise silent in his comfort.

Having lost her contact with Kurt, and with it her one method to help, Sarah sits small and alone in the far corner of her cushion. Large hands grasp her under her arms and pull her into the air and to a strong chest. She hasn't gotten to know Finn well despite his years at her house, but it's a hug he's offering and it's a hug she needs.

Burt murmurs whatever comes to mind into Kurt's hair, "You're gonna' get through this, Kiddo, because you're strong, just like your mom. You've always been so strong. You've never cared what people think about you, and there's no reason to start now. You're better than them. You're just gonna' put this all in your rearview mirror when you make it out of here, okay? This is nothing you can't handle."

Kurt mumbles something inaudible against his father's throat. Burt pulls back to give his kid some breathing room, "What was that?"

"I invited 'Cedes over..."

"Now?"

Kurt squeezes his eyes tightly shut and nods.

'Probably not your best plan.' "What do you want to do about that?"

"I need to tell her."

"Kurt... You've been putting yourself through a lot today, and I don't think this," Burt points to them huddled on the couch, "is a coincidence."

"She's gonna' find out anyway, and if it's not from me? That would be... terrible, and... I just really need my best friend right now."

"All right, then, you do what you think is best."

Kurt nods, then nuzzles back into his father's warmth. Mercedes isn't there yet; he can worry about that later.

Officer Lora Davies arrives at the station early for her shift and heads straight to her desk. Normally, she'd take the opportunity to check in with her fellow members of the force, but lately she hasn't appreciated the talk around the water cooler.

She understands cop loyalty. Hell, she practices it. This, though... this is too far.

_"I can't believe that faggy little kid's accusing one of our own. Bitch doesn't know who he's messing with."_

__

"Crying rape like that? Someone needs to teach him the meaning of the word."

_"Bitch would deserve it after all he's pulled."_

Then they'd laugh. They'd _laugh_. Officer Davies met one of the kids, heard his full story. This isn't a joke, and those boys certainly aren't lying.

So, she avoids her coworkers, her family in blue, and engrosses herself in paperwork as she waits for it all to pass.

"Hey, Davies!" Captain Harris stands in the doorway of his office, lifts his head in a beckoning gesture, and returns to his desk.

Davies makes her way to the office amidst the calls of "Trouble!" and catcalls that are far too reminiscent of high school.

"Shut the door," Harris requests when Davies arrives. She does, then sits nervously awaiting what is to come. There is a reason the rest of the force smelled blood; the captain doesn't pull you into his office to discuss his kid's sixth birthday party.

"Are you on the Goldman case?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I thought you should know he made bail. His church came forward with the money. He's now under house arrest."

Harris studies Davies for a reaction so she offers none.

"Davies, loyalty is important in our line of work. We have to trust each other with our lives and leap with the hope that the system will protect us."

The silence that follows convinces Davies it's a good time to agree, "Yes, Sir."

"That said, being a cop does not make you immune. Enforcing the law doesn't ensure you'll follow it. Innocent until proven guilty works both ways. I don't like what they're saying about the Hummel boy any more than you do." And yet, he isn't stopping it.

Davies just nods, not quite sure what emotion she's supposed to be displaying.

"I've got Nelson and Clark watching the Goldman's house, but they're rookies and probably forgot to bring food or something. You mind going and checking on them?"

Davies, a rookie herself, takes this as a compliment, "I'll do that now, Sir."

Harris nods his approval.

"Oh, and Sir? Do you want me to inform the Hummels and Puckermans of the development?"

"Nah, I asked Nelson and Clark to do that. I figured hearing from the men watching Goldman would put the families' minds at ease."

"Yes, Sir."

When Davies arrives at the Goldman house, she notices only one figure in the other patrol car. It's not too alarming; someone could be using the gas station restroom down the street or surveying the area nearby on foot. It's not exactly procedure, but not uncommon either. She grabs the box of donuts from the passenger seat and vacates the vehicle.

It's not Nelson in the patrol car parked on the curb in front of Goldman's place, and it's not Clark. It's Steinbeck, Goldman's former partner on the beat. 'Okay, there is probably a perfectly good explanation for this.'

Davies knocks on the driver's side window, and when the somewhat startled cop looks up, she puts on her brightest grin and holds up the pink box enticingly.

Steinbeck rolls down the window of the old cruiser, "Davies?"

"Captain thought Nelson and Clark would be here and sent me to check in on them."

"I relieved them. It wasn't fair for Captain to just spring the assignment on them. Clark had a date with his wife tonight and Nelson had tickets to the game... On the force, we support each other, right?"

"Of course. I brought donuts," she hands them through the window.

"Best kind of support there is."

"Listen, I know these babysitting gigs can be rough. You shouldn't have to be out here by yourself. I'll call the station, get someone out here with you."

"Who you gonna' call? My partner?" Goldman still hasn't been replaced.

"How about Rickman?"

"You don't think I can handle it?"

"Every man needs a break every once in a while."

"I've got this."

"It's just procedure."

"We're stretched out as it is. I've got my eye on him."

Davies looks back to the house, "I don't see him."

"He's in the bathroom."

She's been there ten minutes and hasn't seen him once. This isn't right. Way too much is going on under the Captain's nose. Steinbeck was close with his partner, they went to the same synagogue and spent holidays with each other's families; he is not the right man to be watching Isaac Goldman's house. She's about to voice this when she notices Steinbeck's service weapon lying within his reach on the passenger seat. It suddenly occurs to her how unprotected she is and how big of a mess she can get herself into. "He must be taking a shower, then. That should give you a bit of a rest. I'm sorry; you're right. You should be allowed to be here for your partner, and when he's found innocent, he'll be glad you didn't go cheating on him with any of the other officers. Enjoy the donuts." With that, she turns and leaves.

She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away. She's very aware that at any moment, he can decide she's a threat to whatever he has going on, grab his gun, and shoot her, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. She forcefully resists the urge to run, knowing that would just tip him off and she could never actually outrun a bullet. No walk across the street has ever taken this long.

When she reaches her car door, she has to grab her keys from her pocket and unlock it, while realizing that a still target is even easier to hit than a moving one. She shuts herself in and looks nervously at all the plexiglass around her. It's not like they can afford bullet-proof glass for their vehicles, and it's never dawned on her how little protective steel is between her and any oncoming bullets.

As she pulls away, Steinbeck offers her a little wave. She can't see his other hand and hopes her returning wave doesn't belay her fear.

She doesn't feel safe until she's five blocks away and still hasn't seen him move in her rearview mirror. Davies grabs her cell phone and hits her speed dial.

"This is Captain Harris."

"Sir, this is Davies. We have a situation."

The moment Mercedes steps into the Hummel home, she can tell something's wrong. Burt answers the door. Kurt always answers the door, but Burt answers it. His eyes are puffy... maybe because he's tired.

Finn is at the kitchen table with a little girl, wrapped up in conversation. A thought about Finn finally making a friend he can intellectually relate to comes to mind, but the somber energy of the home has her immediately feeling guilty for it.

Carole is hugging herself tightly, "Kurt's downstairs, Honey."

It occurs to Mercedes she's yet to speak. "Thank you. I'll just go down there, then." She lugs her Depp-loaded bag down the basement steps to see Kurt cross-legged on his bed, and sitting before the vanity... 'Hold up! Puck?'

Kurt pats the area of the bed in front of him, "'Cedes?"

Mercedes sits obediently but doesn't take her eyes off the shock in the room. That is, until Kurt grabs her hands in his own.

'Has my man been crying?' Mercedes turns to Puck with a fury, "What did you do? Boy, I'm-"

"Mercedes," Kurt squeezes her hands, "I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen."

Her boy is pleading with her, so of course she gives in. "What is it, Baby?"

"I... That- That boy in the news? The one they're saying lied about that cop? He didn't lie, 'Cedes. I swear he didn't. I _know_ he didn't. He isn't lying. You have to believe me."

"Kurt?"

"I know he didn't lie b-because..." Kurt takes a shuddering breath, "because he's me."

Mercedes had felt it coming, but it still catches her off-guard. "You?"

"'Cedes, I didn't lie! Please believe me! I didn't lie!" Tears snake down his face at the thought of his best friend siding with Isaac.

"Of course I believe you!" Mercedes leans forward and engulfs Kurt in a hug. "Baby, I'll always believe you!" She tells him what he's begging to hear while her mind puts meaning to his words. Kurt's saying he was... That the cop...

Kurt's fingers cling to Mercedes' back desperately, almost painfully as he silently cries.

"Awe, Baby, I love you. I'll always be on your side. That won't change because of what some bottle-blonde twig with a microphone says."

"'Cedes!" That's just what he needed to hear.

"That's right, and you're the only one who gets to call me that, 'cause we're BFFs and that's forever."

Kurt pulls out of Mercedes' embrace, a small smile shining through the tears. He holds out his hand, and they wiggle their fingers together before tugging back their bangs. Kurt keeps his fingers in his locks for a moment, organizing his thoughts.

Reaching down and grabbing her hand, Kurt meets Mercedes' eyes, "I have something more to tell you."

'More? After _that_?'

"I lied to you." Remorse crinkles Kurt's eyes.

Mercedes has a momentary hope that this has all been a lie, or some acting experiment, but as relieving as that would be, she knows he would never do something that dramatically insensitive.

Kurt continues, undeterred by Mercedes' lack of verbal responses, "Noah wasn't over here last week to apologize to Finn."

Mercedes' head snaps back to the boy at the vanity. She'd completely forgotten Puck was there. Boy can be creepy quiet.

Kurt's gone silent, unsure of what to say next, and Puck's blank expression as he keeps up a staring contest with the floor offers no answers. Mercedes squeezes Kurt's hand, hoping to encourage more words. It works.

"He was here to see me. He's my... my boyfriend."

Mercedes does her best to stifle her gasp. _That_ came out of nowhere.

"We're been together for about five months now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you! I wanted to, we just couldn't tell anyone. Only my parents know, and that's because I can't keep anything from my dad. His family didn't even know. I'm still sorry I didn't tell you. I should have. You're my best friend. I-"

"Kurt?"

Kurt's mouth shuts with a click, ramble over.

"Consider this a free pass, Boo."

The weight on his shoulders melts away. "Thank you, 'Cedes."

"Just... why did you feel you had to hide it?"

"Because... Because it's one thing for the fabulous fashionista to be attracted to another boy, it's expected, but for the badass running back? It would have been so much worse for him."

Puck finally speaks up with his own reasoning, "And while everyone knows Kurt's gay and all, knowing he's actually acting on those feelings is way more threatening to homophobic jackasses like Karofsky."

"In the end, I guess it didn't really matter. We still got caught and we still got punished."

Puck's been across the room from his boyfriend for long enough, and hearing those words come out of Kurt's mouth is his breaking point. In two steps, he's got his chest pressed into Kurt's back, his arms wrapped around the small waist, and his face nuzzled into the slender neck, "Hey, we weren't doing anything wrong."

Kurt nods. He has to keep remembering that.

Mercedes remains silent, watching the boys in their intimate moment, unable to bring herself to ask what Kurt had meant.

Puck whispers into Kurt's ear, "You okay to do this?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I just... 'Cedes, that cop was dating Noah's mom. He was at their house all the time, but we managed to keep our distance, until... Last week, he caught us together, and he... and, and he... Noah?" Kurt can't continue.

"It's okay, I've got you. You want me to finish?"

Kurt nods.

Puck looks into the horrified eyes of the girl who isn't so sure she wants to hear the rest of it, and goes on with the story, "He wanted to straighten me out or make me repent or whatever. Dude was messed up. At first he was gonna'- he was gonna' _shoot him_. I almost lost- But, he saw how much I love him and he just wanted to fuck all that up, so he... yeah... right in front of me and I couldn't do shit about it because he had me fucking handcuffed to a desk."

Mercedes' wide eyes ping-pong between the two boys' teary faces staring back at her. It's all too much to take in. She can't form a coherent thought. It was bad enough knowing something that had had happened to _her boy_, but the details are too much for her, for her _imagination_, to handle. A gun. A gun shooting_ Kurt_. A man _raping_ him_ in front of someone_. As_punishment_.

"'Cedes?" Kurt begs, begs her not to pull away, not after what they'd told her, not when he needs her this much.

Puck tightens his hold on Kurt, protecting him from a possible negative reaction.

Mercedes knows she needs to act now, but, "I want to hug you but I can't hug you if he's already hugging you!"

Puck unwinds his arms and pulls back slowly, not sure he's willing to leave Kurt in the hands of someone else, especially when he's this vulnerable. Before he can change his mind, Mercedes surges forward and gathers Kurt into her arms.

They fit together with practiced perfection and Mercedes bawls into Kurt's shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Baby! I'm sorry he did that to you! I'm sorry I wasn't there! I'll kill him. I'll spread the pieces so far across Ohio they'll never find them all. He'll pay. No one gets to hurt my man and get away with it." Her sadness quickly turns to anger, and anger she can handle. Anger means she can dry her tears, stop acting like a baby, and actually be there for Kurt.

She strokes her fingernails up and down Kurt's back in the way that was always able to leak the bitter hurt from his body after a particularly cruel bullying. "What do you need from me, Baby?"

Kurt pulls back to look at her, bites his lip, and asks, "Did you bring Edward Scissorhands?"

Rebekah sits in Finn's room among her children's belongings. She hugs her son's football jersey to her chest and fixes the dress on one of her daughter's dolls. She misses her babies.

She's showered and eaten and made herself presentable, but she just can't bring herself to reclaim her children. She hasn't earned them back yet. They are better off where they are, and someday she'll repay Carole for all she's done. For now, she'll sit with their toys and clothes and books.

Pictures! She needs pictures. Right now, she wants nothing more than to see her little Noah at his Bar Mitzvah. Oh, and baby Sarah with her first birthday cake all over her face... She can't believe she forgot those when she'd gotten all the other things just the night before.

She just has to run home again. It's horrible being there, but being without those pictures is so much worse.

She grabs her keys and rushes over. She promises herself she'll only be in there for five minutes. She just has to grab two albums and the framed photos on the mantle.

Rebekah unlocks her front door and hip-checks it to close it. She doesn't hear it slam. As she turns to try again, she hears a voice.

"Hello, Rebekah. I was wondering when you'd get home."

"Isaac?"


	13. Chapter 13

Many thanks to my amazing Beta, Somzinglyme!

Isaac fully enters the house, shuts the door behind himself, and locks it. It's a symbolic gesture, showing Rebekah no one can come in to save her, and it's frightening.

"I think we need to talk."

"You're supposed to be in jail."

"You don't honestly think that, do you? I've done nothing wrong."

"I was _there_." Rebekah takes a stumbling step back, putting her sofa between herself and the intruder.

Isaac steps toward her and holds up his hands as a show of innocence, "You have nothing to fear, Rebekah. Godloves_ you_."

Rebekah's eyes dart to the phone. She could get to it, but she could never call out before he stopped her. She looks around for a weapon, spots a candle stick holder. She could get in a few good whacks, but only if he isn't concealing a gun. It's too risky. She realizes silence is an obvious sign she's plotting and tries to verbally stall until a viable idea comes to her, "Why are you here?"

"Your son needs help, Rebekah. The Lord has sent me for him. He will absolve all once Noah is cured."

The words chill Rebekah to the bone. Something in Isaac snapped. She doesn't know how she could have missed this level of crazy in a two month relationship. He'd loved God as much as she does, but never did he claim to be running missions for him. Isaac has gone insane, and insanity is unpredictable, and unpredictability is terrifying... especially when it might be walking around with a gun.

"Isaac, Noah isn't here right now."

"Don't lie to me! I know you're protecting him! The Lord wants him to repent. You would deny Him?"

Repent. In the Torah, repentance often means blood.

Isaac continues, his tone eerily calm, "The Lord wants to love your son, Rebekah. He just needs to stop sinning. You need to do what is best for your son."

His last sentence repeats in her mind. 'Yes, I do.' Rebekah sighs, "When The Lord speaks, I listen. Just... please don't hurt him."

"The Lord needs him to repent."

Rebekah gives a resigned nod.

"Bring me to Noah."

"Sarah's with him. I can't let her see, she'll be scared. I'll send Noah down, but I'll need to be with her, to protect her. Please. They're in my room; it's upstairs. We can't go anywhere. I just need two minutes alone with my children and then I'll send Noah down to you and God's will."

Isaac considers this. Sarah is a good, God-loving child. The Lord would not want her afraid of one of his soldiers. She can't witness God's plan for her brother lest she lose faith. Rebekah understands God's authority. She'll do what is right. "The Lord is patient." Isaac sits on the couch, the picture of such a virtue.

"Thank you." Rebekah takes the stairs as calmly as she can, then races from the top step to her bedroom. She wasn't lying: there is no escape. She isn't looking for one. She locks her bedroom door behind her, hoping it might buy her an extra minute, and reaches for a box at the top shelf in her closet. She lays it on her bed and opens it to reveal a gun. Alongside it sits a full magazine. She hasn't shot it since the days she visited ranges with Mr. Puckerman, but it's clean, and thanks to quick and confident fingers, it's now loaded and ready.

Rebekah seats herself on the bed, aims her weapon at the door, and prays.

Puck, Kurt, and Mercedes make it halfway through Edward Scissorhands before they are joined by Finn and Sarah. They fill up Kurt's queen bed: Puck leans against the center of the headboard, Kurt cuddled to his chest; Finn stretches out on one side of them and Mercedes on the other, one of Kurt's hands in her own; Sarah takes every position imaginable during their marathon, curling into each available lap and getting well-acquainted with the foot of the bed.

Somewhere during one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, Kurt falls asleep. Mercedes carefully removes her hand so as not to disturb him and motions to Finn that it's probably time to leave the couple be. Finn nods and catches Puck's appreciative smile, then plans what he's going to do about Sarah. He looks back at Puck and whispers, "I don't have a sister. What do I do with her?"

Puck gently lays a hand over Kurt's exposed ear and whispers back, "Ask her to help your mom with dinner."

Finn's stomach growls in response, so it must be a good idea. He crouches in front of Sarah, who is engrossed in a sword fight because she's a badass Puckerman, and maintains his whisper, "Hey, Sarah, I think my mom needs help with dinner."

At the word "help," Sarah leaps from the bed and rushes up the stairs. Finn gives himself a mental high five, then follows Mercedes to the living room.

She pushes back her bangs in a very Kurt-like fashion and in an uncharacteristic bout of shyness, asks, "So... Kurt and Puck, huh?"

"You knew?"

"No, they just told me... but I think the cuddling would have clued me in."

"Oh, yeah..."

"So, you knew?"

"No! No, they just told me yesterday."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah."

The silence that follows that awkward byplay is a palpable reminder that, despite sharing Glee and a close relationship with the Hummel home, they've never had an actual conversation.

Mercedes speaks up, "So, while I know you've got your beef with Puck, he was also your boy. You know him best. Tell me, is he good enough for my man?"

"I don't know. You dated him."

Mercedes waves a dismissive hand in Finn's face, "Psh, that was just for show! I'm talking for real."

This is really not an awesome topic for Finn to be discussing. He still hasn't really gotten used to the "best friend of over a decade dating the sort-of-step-brother who used to crush on him" situation. It's not like he's freaking out about it like he did when Kurt decorated the basement to look like the I Dream of Genie bottle, it's just a lot of change to accept. "I don't know! They've been together for a while. I guess that's good. They hug a lot."

"Doe he love him?"

"I don't... He says he does."

"You should be able to tell if your best friend is in love, White Boy."

...He can. He can tell that Puck's relationship with Kurt at least matters more. Hell, Puck never proclaimed his love for anyone before, and he's spending all his time here and he can't stop touching Kurt... not in a gross way... Puck's totally in love with his brother. "Yeah, I guess he is."

"Good," Mercedes smiles, satisfied, "so is Kurt. It's... I'm glad they have each other during... all this." Another awkward pause falls between them. "Okay, well I better get outta' here before my mom starts calling me. Tell Kurt I said bye, and that he'd better call me before another week goes by." Her nonchalance is a total lie; after the news she got today, she'll be checking on him way more often than that.

"Okay, bye, Mercedes." Finn sees her out, wondering why that conversation has him feeling so much better.

Sarah enters the kitchen greeted by the aroma of frying latkes. It's something she's very familiar with; her mother makes them all the time... or, made them.

"Oh, hello, Sarah. Have you come to help me with dinner?" Carole waves with the spatula.

Sarah nods, "Are those latkes?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd give them a try."

"Do you have apple sauce?"

"I've got it right here," she taps a bottle of Mott's. Plain Mott's.

"My mom always uses cinnamon apple sauce."

Carole rifles through the pantry for a few seconds and pulls out a small jar of cinnamon, placing it on top of the apple sauce, "Well, we'll just add it ourselves."

That isn't really the point.

"Mrs. Hudson, why am I at your house?"

"Your mom just has a few things she needs to take care of."

"Why doesn't she want me around?"

Carole was afraid of this. She puts the spatula down and holds a hand out to the forlorn girl, "Sweetie, she misses you a lot, and it's only for one more night. You'll go back to her tomorrow."

Sarah tucks into Carole's waist, "M-Mrs. Hudson... Was... Was my mommy hurt like Kurt was? When Kurt was hurt, he didn't want us around either."

"No! No, Honey, you're mom's fine." At least, Carole hopes that's true. "She's just sad about what happened, and sometimes when grownups are sad they don't want their kids to see."

"Why?"

"Because it will make you sad, and we never want to see our kids sad."

"I've seen Mom sad before."

"This is a different kind of sad."

"Oh." Sarah goes silent for a moment, then asks, "So, she won't be sad tomorrow?"

"She'll be better tomorrow."

"And she'll want to see me again?"

"Of course she will. She loves you and your brother more than anything."

Sarah smiles, her troubles washed away. "Can I put the cinnamon in the apple sauce?"

"Yes you may. First, though, could you check out back to see if Mr. Hummel is done barbecuing?"

"Okay!" Sarah races through the house to fulfill her task.

Her heartstrings thoroughly tugged, Carole picks up the kitchen phone and dials her own home number. 'No, it's Rebekah's home now,' Carole has to keep reminding herself. She needs to make sure Rebekah really will be ready to take Sarah back tomorrow. The child is resilient, but she needs the reassurances of her mother's love. The phone rings seven times before going to voicemail, Carole's own cheery voice talking back at her. Carole hangs up, wondering why Rebekah wouldn't answer. Maybe it's a good sign; maybe she's feeling good enough to go outside or take a luxurious bath. Carole doesn't worry.

Kurt wakes up to the flashing light of his TV forcing its way through his eyelids. He's surrounded by strength and warmth and the familiar scent of Noah. He hums softly and cuddles in closer, then feels immediate embarrassment by the display when he remembers being surrounded by their friends. He cracks an eye open to see they are now alone, "Where did everyone go?"

"Shh, this is my favorite part."

Kurt glances at the screen to see the DVD menu. "Noah!" His scowl is extremely ineffective; it's obvious he loves the teasing.

"You fell asleep about two hours ago, so everyone left. You were snoring too loud for them to hear the movie."

"I do not snore!"

"I think the evidence speaks for itself."

Kurt pouts until Puck relents.

"All right, you don't snore. You are silent and adorable while you sleep."

"Thank you." The DVD menu starts up another loop. "Oh, have you been stuck watching this the whole time?"

Puck shrugs, taking his lightweight passenger along for the ride, "The audio remote's right here, so I was able to mute it, but everything else is out of reach and I didn't want to wake you."

Kurt twists until they are chest to chest and lifts his head back to face his boyfriend, "Noah, that's... so sweet!"

Because it's so sweet, and they're in love, and everything just feels so normal, Kurt leans in for a kiss. Puck meets him halfway, bringing up his hands to cradle Kurt's skull, but otherwise letting the smaller boy take the lead. Kurt keeps it chaste at first, just pressing their lips together, then shyly flicks his tongue against Puck's bottom lip. Puck takes the hint and opens his mouth in invitation. Kurt takes a tentative swipe at the back of Puck's front teeth, then gaining courage, finds Puck's tongue with his own. A shiver runs through Puck's body. Kurt moans into his mouth as he gently rocks their hips together. Puck's hips buck of their own accord and Kurt quickens the pace. Nimble fingers go for Puck's belt, but Puck stops them.

"Wait."

"What?"

"We shouldn't do this."

Kurt looks stricken and pulls back, but Puck wraps his arms around him before he can get too far.

"Yet. We shouldn't do this yet. It's just too soon."

"When, then? A month from now? A year? Five years? Why do I have to wait that long to stop being a victim?"

"You shouldn't- I'm sorry. I just... I'm scared."

"Scared? Of this?"

Puck offers a small shrug of a nod.

"We've... done this before."

"Not since..."

"Is it because I'm a guy?"

"What? No, Kurt-"

"But, you were able to with that girl." There are layers of hurt behind those words.

"Huh? Oh! No! No, I didn't."

"You didn't? You said you-"

"I couldn't go through with it. It was like a minute in when I freaked out and ran."

"Oh... Oh, God!" Kurt scrambles out of Puck's embrace and lands at the far side of the bed, "I shouldn't have forced you. I just assumed... I'm sorry!"

Puck follows, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's forearm to sate his need for contact, "It's okay, I'm not the one who was..."

Kurt bits back a sob, "We are so fucked up."

"Hey, no, it's only been a week, and look at everything you accomplished today. It's getting better."

Kurt nods, wanting to believe.

"Kurt, can... can you come back so I can hold you?"

Kurt bites his lip, feeling guilty his boyfriend had to beg for comfort. He crawls into Puck's lap, and the arms come around him desperately tight.

"It'll happen. It just takes time. We love each other and that's what matters."

"Noah, what are you afraid of?"

"I... That I'll hurt you, that you'll associate me with him, that I won't be able to hold you like this or be with you anymore."

A tiny whimper catches in Kurt's throat, "I hate this. I hate that he did this to us. I wish... Why did he have to do that to us? Why..." The tears trail down the familiar territory of his cheeks. "Why couldn't he just leave us alone? Why do I have to be this way now? I hate that I'm scared of what's out my front door! I hate that I'm always going to be his victim! I want to be normal again! I want our old life back!"

"It'll happen..."

Rebekah holds her gun with a tense arm. Her muscles grow sore but do not waiver. Each second takes hours to pass as she waits. She's aware that Isaac could very well be armed, as well, and he could get a shot off before her. She's never shot a living target and Isaac has proven he has no qualms about hurting people. If he has a chance, he will no doubt kill her upon discovering her rouse.

All she has is the element of surprise. That, and a mother's love. If Isaac leaves this house alive, he will go after Noah and Kurt next, and hurting them will also hurt Sarah.

Rebekah has to do this, for her children.

There are footsteps on the staircase.

They creak on old floorboards.

They're coming toward the bedroom.

"Rebekah, we can not keep The Lord waiting."

'So much for His patience.' Rebekah almost laughs, during all this, but realizes hysteria will not be helpful and swallows it down. She focuses solely on the door.

A knock at the door.

Another, louder.

A kick. He's trying to kick the door in. This might be a good indication he doesn't have a gun.

'I'm about to kill someone.' The realization fills Rebekah with a cold, heavy dread. Kill or be killed" the worst ultimatum.

Another kick bows the door. He'll make it through any second.

A final kick and the door splinters open.

Rebekah only catches a glimpse of him before a gun fires.

Isaac takes a step forward, into the room. His hand flies to his stomach. A red stain grows between his fingers. Eyes agape, he stares at Rebekah.

Rebekah stares back, "That was for my children."

Isaac inhales a staggering breath and lunges forward.

Rebekah's second bullet lands between his eyes. He falls like a stringless puppet.

"That was for Kurt."

Amidst the blood, bits of pink brain stain the far wall. Rebekah sighs. Isaac won't be getting up.

She finally lowers her weapon.

'He's dead.'

'I killed him.'

'I killed someone.'

'I killed a cop.'

Rebekah suddenly realizes that her every move is going to be very important. She's killed a cop, and that's so much worse than killed just about anyone else in this town. She needs to look as innocent as possible.

First thing's first: put the gun away. She lays it in the box, leaving the lid off: she doesn't want to look like she's hiding it.

Next, she has to call the very people who will be most outraged by her action.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's an intruder in my home. I'm at 611 Birch in Lima."

"Ma'am, are you in a safe location?"

"Yes."

"Where in the house is the intruder?"

"Here."

"Ma'am?"

"I shot him."

There's a pause, then, "Is he conscious?"

"No, he's dead." An unidentifiable emotion courses through Rebekah as she admits this aloud. Thrill? Fear? Relief?

"Ma'am, I need you to stay there until the police arrive, all right?"

"All right."

"They're on their way."

That's all Rebekah needs to hear. She hangs up, freeing the line for other emergencies.

She agreed to stay home, but she definitely isn't staying in this room with _him_.

Getting around the body is a challenge. The pool of blood soaking into the hardwood floor takes up the majority of the open floor space, and there is no way she's stepping in it. She gives his body a wide berth, then catches a glimpse of his head... or what had been his head. The back of his skull is by the dresser, five feet from the rest of it, leaving a very large hole in the back of his head for its contents to slowly spill out. Rebekah's never seen a dead body before, and she has to tear her eyes away before she vomits on it. The smell of too much blood isn't helping; she has to get out of here.

Isaac's arm takes up part of the doorway, and Rebekah has seen enough horror movies to feel great trepidation about stepping into the grasp of the seemingly-dead. Isaac doesn't grab her leg as she runs from the room; he's not that kind of monster.

Rebekah can't be in this house. Not ever again. She pushes herself through the front door and doesn't feel the intense trapped feeling fade until she reaches the curb.

It's over. He's gone. Her children are safe. She protected her kids like any mother should. She did her job.

Now she sits and awaits her fate.


	14. Chapter 14

-I'm sorry for the ridiculously long wait! Combining illness with job hunting didn't leave pretty results, and this chapter was already a little brat to write. This is my last chapter, and endings are always the hardest part for me.

Also, the last bit is not yet Beta-ed. My apologies for any typos. Most of it was fixed already by the amazing Somzinglyme.-

Three police cruisers show up at once. This is it. There's no way Rebekah's escaping now.

Out of the first one runs the officer Rebekah remembers from the interview. She thinks her name may have started with a D. The officer goes straight for the house, weapon drawn, followed by two male uniforms.

The officers who come out of the last car are calmer and make for Rebekah. She stands slowly and holds up her hands in the universal "Don't Shoot" signal.

"Do you live here, Ma'am?"

"I did it." She has to just get this over with.

"Did what?"

"I killed him. He was threatening my children. He already attacked them once. I couldn't..."

The officers are clearly surprised to be getting a confession, but recover quickly when a staticky voice announces over the radio, "We found Goldman. He's dead."

The nearest officer takes out his handcuffs, "Ma'am, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Whatever you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?"

"Yes." Cuffed, Rebekah is shoved into the back of the patrol car and shut in.

She's driven to the station. She expected the siren to sound, and when it doesn't she feels silly. This isn't an emergency; the criminal is already in custody.

Hauling her out of the car, they don't let go of her until they bring her to the processing area. They take fingerprints, mugshots, and everything she has on her. There's no orange jumpsuit; that's for later. For now she can wear her own clothes in her small cell. There's a toilet and a cot and she's alone. She guesses Lima is on its best behavior. That, or she's in a cell reserved for especially violent criminals.

She wonders when she'll get her phone call. Her kids need to know everything is going to be better now.

Dinner is awkward without Puck and Kurt. Carole goes down to invite them, but Puck doesn't want to wake Kurt after the day he's had, so it's just the four of them. Two chicken breasts sit uneaten on the serving plate, and even Finn doesn't have the heart to eat the missing boys' portion. The same can't be said for the crispy latkes.

Burt makes some excuse about the long day (either just experienced or ahead, even he isn't sure) and turns in. After checking with Finn that he is fine putting Sarah to bed, Carole follows.

Finn immediately takes Sarah to the basement entrance, but upon hearing Kurt's sobs through the door, he thinks better of it. He sits Sarah in front of the TV with the promise that late night programming is the coolest thing ever.

Sarah drops her jaw in an exaggerated yawn, "This is boring."

"It's _Family Guy_," Finn replies, as if just saying its name will convey its level of awesome.

"It's a cartoon."

"Dude, it is so much more than that!"

"A talking baby and a stupid fat man?" Sarah delivers this with that _look_ all women are programmed with.

"Okay, fine, what do you usually watch?"

"My bedtime was an hour ago."

"Oh... yeah."

"What else is on?"

'Skinemax.' "Nothing."

Sarah sighs and looks to the basement door, "Do you think he's still crying?"

"You heard that?"

Sarah just rolls her eyes, but that doesn't hide the sadness or worry on the too-young-for-this features.

"Uh, sorry. I'm not sure. Do you want me to check?"

Sarah shrugs.

"Tell you what, how about you sleep with me tonight?"

The look can only be described as dubious.

"You're a girl, so I'll even let you take the bed." Sarah will never grasp the gravity of this gesture.

"Okay."

"Yeah? All right, cool." Finn stands, more than ready for sleep.

Sarah bites her lip, "All my stuff's down there."

Finn attempts the role of problem solver, "I found an old toothbrush when we were unpacking my stuff. Don't worry, it's still in its package. And, you can wear my old basketball jersey.

While Sarah gets ready with those items, Finn grabs a pillow and one of the blankets and makes himself a sleeping area on the floor.

Just one more night until he gets to sleep in an actual bed again...

Burt had entered his bedroom certain he'd fall asleep quickly, but he's still just staring at the ceiling, haunted by his thoughts.

The people in this town are so ready to believe Kurt's guilt it hurts. When does his kid get a break? A woman cries rape and the world rushes to her defense; Kurt ends up in the hospital and there is doubt. Burt doesn't care that that's an over-simplification. Kurt doesn't deserve this. After what that bastard did to him... His son's voice describing every detail of his attack will rattle through his brain for the rest of his life. And then they say he made it up!

Burt catches a glimpse of the clock: it's just after eleven, his last chance to catch today's news. He reaches for the remote.

"Burt?" It seems Carole can't sleep, either.

He flips on the TV, "I have to, Carole. I have to know what they're saying. I have to know what I have to protect him from."

It's on a commercial. Great.

The phone rings. More great.

Carole checks the caller ID, prepared for the Private Number concealing one of those hateful calls. Instead, she finds, "It's the police." She answers quickly, "Hello?"

There's a gasp on the other end, like the caller wasn't expecting her to answer.

"Hello?"

"Carole, it's me."

"Rebekah?"

"I'm so sorry. You're going to have to watch Sarah longer than I thought."

"Why? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I killed him, Carole. Isaac's dead. He came to my house, threatened Noah, and broke into my room... and I shot him."

"What?"

"Carole, I think I'm going away for a long time, but I had to. I had to do it."

"Rebekah, what-"

"They told me I had to make this quick. I'm sorry for springing this on you. Please tell my kids it's over, that it's going to be okay. Could you do that? I've already asked for so much."

"Yes! Yes, of course I can do that, but-"

"I have to go, Carole. Tell... Tell them I love them?" It's a question, but the line goes dead before Carole can answer.

Carole turns to Burt, surprised to see him watching TV. Then she hears it.

"We're live on the scene at this suburban home where Isaac Goldman was shot dead just an hour ago. It seems he snuck into the residence when the homeowner, Rebekah Puckerman, was home. Mrs. Puckerman barricaded herself in her bedroom, and Mr. Goldman broke down her door. Mrs. Puckerman pulled out her gun, and shot him. We still have details coming in. According to a source with the District Attorney's Office, Mrs. Puckerman was immediately taken into police protection following the incident..."

Burt turns to Carole, eyes wide.

"That was Rebekah. Isaac's dead."

He knows. "Kurt... I should... He should know now."

"Rebekah's in jail. We need to talk to all three of them."

"Jail? They said protection."

"They're wrong. Rebekah said she was going away for a _while_, told me to tell her kids she loves them."

"How are we going to tell them?"

"Should we wait until morning?"

"No, they should know now."

"I don't think Sarah..."

"We'll tell Noah and Kurt first. They'll need each other, and we'll need them when we tell Sarah."

Carole nods as Burt gets up. Now means now. Carole follows him down to the basement.

Burt knocks quietly, listening for a response.

His son's voice is muffled, "Come on in, Bucket!"

Burt opens the door, "Hey, Kid, it's us."

Kurt rises from Puck's chest, "Oh, Dad, what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk with you boys about something."

Puck lifts himself up to a sitting position and wraps his arm around Kurt's waist, "What?"

A nervous tension builds in Kurt as he thinks that maybe his dad knows about them making out, about what he'd tried to do to Puck.

The parents seat themselves on the couch, trying to make this as easy to hear as possible.

Carole starts, "First of all, Noah, I want you to know your mother is okay; she wasn't hurt."

Puck's grip on Kurt tightens, "What are you talking about?"

"Honey... tonight, Isaac went to your house."

"What! He's- He's supposed to be in jail. He can't just- How?"

Kurt starts trembling in Puck's hold and Carole knows she has to get to the point quickly.

"I don't know how he got out, but Sweetie, your mom was there-"

"What? No, she's at your house now. She wouldn't-"

"Noah, she was there and Isaac tried to hurt her. He threatened to hurt you, too. Your mom loves you very much and she wanted to keep you safe. She shot him."

"Shot him?"

"He's dead, Honey. Your mom killed him."

Kurt gasps, and Noah's hand instinctively rubs the slim waist comfortingly as his face goes stoney. "Dead?... She killed...?"

"Yeah... and, Sweetheart, the police... They arrested her."

"A-arrested? Arrested? But, he attacked her! He was supposed to be in jail!"

"I know, Honey. I'm so sorry."

"I have to see her. I have to see my mom!" Puck starts to get up, but Kurt's not moving, and Puck can't leave him.

"Noah, I think that's going to have to wait until tomorrow, but we'll go first thing."

"O...kay..." He can't help but picture his mother alone in the very cell Isaac should be occupying.

"Your mother is strong, Noah. She isn't afraid. She's just happy to have you safe."

"She's in jail."

"Hey, Noah," Burt speaks up, "we're gonna' get your mom the best lawyer in Western Ohio. We're not gonna' stop fighting 'til we win this, you hear? I don't care if we have to take on the while damn justice system."

"Thanks." Puck has been doing so well at holding back his tears, but that, that promise of hope and kindness, breaks his dam.

Slender arms wrap warmly around him. Soft hair brushes against his chin as a head leans into his neck. Kurt is comforting him and suddenly that's all that matters. He turns to the parents watching them from the couch, "Could you... leave us alone for a bit? I just need..."

"Of course, Honey." Carole is on the stairs immediately.

Burt watches his son, "Are you all right, Kurt?"

A small nod ruffles Pucks' shirt.

Burt gives the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze. Kurt captures the hand with his cheek.

"It'll all be okay."

Kurt nods again and turns back to Puck.

Burt joins Carole on the stairs.

It occurs to Puck to ask, "Did you tell Sarah yet?"

Carole gives a sympathetic smile, "We're going to do that now."

"Don't? Don't tell her until we can see Mom ourselves or she'll just sneak out and try on her own anyway."

That sounds familiar. "We'll tell her over breakfast. Together."

The basement door shuts and they're alone.

Puck's attempts to fight back his tears only intensify them. His mom was arrested. She was attacked and she defended herself and now she's in jail. She killed someone. For him.

Kurt is too shocked to be as comforting as he feels he should. He just holds tightly to Puck and says the only thing he's been able to actually understand from all this: "Your mom's a hero. She protected us and made it so a _really_ bad guy can't hurt anyone again."

"And now she's gone."

"Noah, she's not dead."

"Murder means life in prison at the _least_. They're gonna' lock her away forever. I'm gonna' lose my mom. She's all I have!"

"No. Listen, my dad was serious about the lawyer. With his business, we've handled courts before. He knows what to do."

"This isn't just a business. This is my mom!"

"And we're gonna' get her back! But, Noah, she's not all you have. In the _very_ short amount of time it takes to fix this, you have us. You have Bucket and Carole and my dad and even Finn now. Noah, you have me, and I'm going to do everything I can for you. I'm going to hold you and love you and comfort you when you cry, and even though it won't make it easy, it will make it bearable because you made it bearable for me."

Puck doesn't know what to say to that, so he just lets Kurt do as promised, and cries.

Carole has her foot on the first stair up to their room when she hears Burt collapse onto the couch. She turns to see him bury his face in his hands, not yet crying but probably not far from it.

Carole hesitates, "Would you like to be alone?"

Burt shakes his head, removing one of his hands from his face to reach out to Carole. She takes it before claiming the cushion next to his.

His voice is tight, "I just couldn't make it any further."

Carole understands. Burt fights to keep his composure in front of his son, but once out of the boy's presence, it becomes that much harder. "It's a lot to take in."

"What was he doing free? How could they just let him go? After what he did to... How could they not be watching him _every second_? He could have just as easily come here. He could have hurt my boy again."

"He didn't."

"But he could have. That son of a bitch was walking the streets and I had no idea. Kurt's room has windows, and I can barely hear what goes on down there unless I'm right by the door. He's home and he still isn't safe."

"He's safe here, Burt. He's got you, he's got Noah, he's got Finn; he's got his own personal army." If anyone tried to hurt that boy, Carole would slaughter them with a meat cleaver, but she decides to stick with the strong male visuals. "And most importantly, the man who attacked him can't hurt him anymore."

"He's dead."

Carole nods slowly.

"Carole, he's dead."

"Yes, he is."

"That son of a bitch is dead!" Guilt that it should have been him pulling the trigger clashes with overwhelming relief, and now he is crying, but so is Carole, so maybe it's the right thing to do.

Scott McAbee enters the Lima Police Station bullpen, greeted by a chorus of poorly-contained groans. It doesn't bother him. Working for the District Attorney's Office means it's his job to keep the police in check, giving him the best and most legally obtained evidence for his cases. Lima likes to play it sloppy and maybe he likes to use that opportunity to smack them down like the hand of God.

"I hear it's already looking like Rebekah Puckerman acted in self-defense."

Captain Harris sighs. 'Where the hell does he get his information?' "Those are only preliminary findings. Officer Davies isn't a CSI."

"Oh, good, Captain Harris, I was hoping to discuss this with you. Let's use your office."

The captain is torn between obeying the lawyer's order and having an argument (which he would undoubtedly lose) in front of his subordinates. Damn that smug suit. "I'll give you ten minutes."

"I won't need more than five."

Harris shuts them in and pulls down the blinds. "That woman killed a police officer."

"An ex-officer who raped and threatened to kill her son's boyfriend in front of him."

"Allegedly!"

"So what do you think he was doing kicking down her door in the middle of the night? Remodeling?"

"We don't yet have all the evidence-"

"Two shots: the first non-lethal, the second from the same location but hitting him at a different angle proving he had moved forward. Sounds like self-defense to me."

"He was unarmed!"

"He kicked the door in. It doesn't sound like he needs to hold a gun to be considered armed."

"We'll let The People decide that."

"Captain Harris, if it wasn't for your department's negligence, none of this would have happened. There is no case. The District Attorney's Office will not be pressing charges."

"What? You can't just-"

"I just did. I expect Mrs. Puckerman to be released immediately."

"Well, that's just not your decision to make."

"Do you know how many news vans I passed on my way through the parking lot? Do you understand what a media frenzy this will be by Wake Up, Ohio? You let a rapist escape your custody to attack the very same family, and you want to keep the victim here as, what, some vendetta? Maybe the public was on your side when it had to choose between you and that Hummel boy, but they will riot for a mother defending her children."

Captain Harris maintains his glare, but his defense is slowly melting.

Scott continues, "Again, I expect Mrs. Puckerman to be released immediately."

Harris scrubs a hand over his face, let's out an exasperated sigh, and leaves the office. Scott follows, undeterred. Harris not-so-willingly leads him to Rebekah's cell.

She's sitting on the cot, staring at her hands folded in her lap, but looks up when Harris unlocks the cell door.

Harris swings the door open, "You're free to go."

Rebekah's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn't waste her opportunity. She stands and doesn't pause until she's in the hallway outside the cell. "Free to go?" she echoes, because she just _has_ to make sure she heard him right.

Harris vaguely indicates the processing area with an open hand, "Marshall will get your stuff back to you. Hey, Marshall! Get her her stuff!"

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, Sir," Marshall grabs a plastic bag from behind his desk containing Rebekah's keys and wallet.

Scott gladly accepts the bag, "Have you already processed Mrs. Puckerman's paperwork?"

"I was just about to-"

"Don't bother. It would just be better for everyone involved if we pretended this little mistake didn't happen."

Marshall knows enough to check with his captain. Harris pinches the bridge of his nose, and in movement made frantic with frustration, shoves the unprocessed papers down the shredder's throat.

"That will be all, then," Scott glides through the front door. Rebekah follows, confusion written all over her face.

Now out of the station, eight microphones are thrust in their faces, questions following.

"Mrs. Puckerman, did Isaac Goldman attack you tonight?"

"Is it true you shot him twice?"

"Did your children witness it?"

"Mr. McAbee, is the District Attorney pressing charges?"

Scott steps forward, his game face on, "Mrs. Puckerman is completely innocent. No charges are being pressed. Isaac Goldman attacked her in her home and she had to protect her children, and now she needs to get back to them." His tone invites no protest and the reporters part like the Red Sea. There's no way they're going to upset the man who has proven time and again to be a valuable source.

Scott heads straight for his car, trusting that Rebekah will follow her wallet and keys. He knows she'll need more coaxing to actually get in his car, so he holds the passenger door open invitingly.

She spares a second to look at him questioningly, but lets that pass and just gets in.

Scott slides into the driver's seat and gently places the wallet and keys into Rebekah's lap. Rebekah clutches the items to her, having never valued them more now that they were taken away from her.

The drive starts out silent, with Rebekah radiating worry.

Scott glances at her when the road is less demanding of his attention. She's got the look of someone trying to wake themselves up.

"You're free, Mrs. Puckerman."

That snaps her to attention. She meets his eyes, "Thank you."

"No need for gratitude. You should not have been arrested in the first place."

"I killed him."

"I'm going to request you stop admitting to that."

"But it's true."

"Never let the truth get in the way of justice."

Rebekah ponders that statement. It's such a TV lawyer thing to say she doubts its sincerity, but the man did just legally bust her out of jail, so she's not going to argue. "Where are you taking me?"

"Like I said, you need to get back to your kids."

Rebekah smiles. She's ready to see them.

Scott parks in what is becoming his usual spot on the curb in front of the Hummel home. He knocks without any regard for the hour.

The door opens, "Can't you call?"

Scott is never going to win over Burt Hummel. Not that he'd try. "I've yet to accomplish sending people through phone lines."

Carole is the first to see her coming up the walk, "Rebekah?"

Rebekah meets her friend's eyes, "Carole."

Carole pushes past the two men in her entryway to pull Rebekah inside, "What happened? What are you doing here?"

"They dropped the charges and let me go."

Burt studies Scott, "Your doing?"

"Rebekah did nothing wrong. It was a mistake for the police to have arrested her in the first place."

Burt nods, "You want some coffee?" From the look on Burt's face, he might actually serve it to him this time. Maybe Scott can win him over.

"No, thank you, I just came by to drop her off. Since there's no case here anymore, I've got to head back to the city."

Burt doesn't seem too disappointed, but he holds out his hand, "Thank you. I appreciate what you've done for us."

Scott shakes hands, "Good luck, Mr. Hummel."

As soon as the door shuts, Rebekah turns pleading eyes on Carole, "Can I please see my children?"

"Of course. Noah's in the basement."

"I'll get him." Burt's about to grab the basement door handle when the door flies open.

"Mom?" Puck rushes to his mother, Kurt on his heels.

"Noah, Baby!" Rebekah crushes her son in a hug and revels in the fact that he's squeezing back just as hard.

Then, he pulls back, holding her at arm's length to inspect, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, not a scratch," she cups the cheek she didn't think she'd get to touch again.

"I- I mean..." Puck flounders. How do you ask your mother if killing someone caused her psychological damage?

Rebekah understands anyway. Her smile is reassuring, "I'm okay, Noah."

"Mommy!" Sarah breaks free from Carole's hold at the base of the stairs and races to her mother. Rebekah frees up her arms just in time to catch her airborne daughter in a hug.

"Mommy, are you gonna' take me home now?"

Rebekah sighs. Her daughter shows no sign of having been apprised of the night's events. She's relieved; she'd much rather break the news to her young child in her own way, omitting details of her own choosing. "Yes, Sweetheart, I'm going to take you home now."

"Yay!" Sarah cheers, then jumps down from her mother's embrace and speeds to the basement, "I'll get my stuff!"

Seeing an opening, Kurt steps up to Rebekah and blurts out, "Thank you for what you did. You're an amazing mother." Just as he's about to feel self-conscious for how forward that statement was, Rebekah surrounds him in a hug.

"I did it for you, too, Kurt."

Kurt's surprised by how vindicated that makes him feel. He just squeezes back harder.

Sarah bounds back up the stairs dressed in her favorite jeans and T-shirt, the rest of her belongings swinging from her arms, "I'm ready!"

Puck tossles his sister's hair, "See ya', Bucket."

"You're not coming, too?"

"Nah, I'm gonna' stay here with Kurt."

Well, she was assuming Kurt would come, too. She spares a moment to be disappointed, but she's missed her mom, so this is still acceptable. "Okay."

Puck opens his arms up for a hug and Sarah leaps into them, "Bye, Noah. I'll miss you lots and lots. Call me."

"I'll call you. I'll also see you, 'cause I'm, like, five minutes away."

Kurt walks up, holding out his arms. Puck hands his sister over, who eagerly clings to Kurt's neck, "Bye, Big Brother Kurt!"

"Bye, Little Sister Bucket."

As soon as she's let down, she runs up to Burt.

"It's been nice having you around, Bucket." His use of her nickname still makes her giggle, so Burt just can't resist.

Sarah retaliates, "Bye, Big Bird!" It's her first attempt at a nickname, and Burt will never live it down.

Carole wraps her arms around Rebekah's shoulder, "You must be exhausted. Come on, I'll drive you home."

She is. Rebekah gives her son one last hug, then gathers her daughter in her arms, not planning on letting go anytime soon, and follows Carole out.

"Noah?" Kurt asks when he catches his boyfriend staring at the door his mother's already walked through.

"She's fine."

Kurt wraps his arms around Puck's waist. Puck blinks, then meet's Kurt's eyes. For the first time, it's not a reassurance or an attempt to soothe or a hope to cling to; it's a realization: "Everything's going to be okay."

-All right, that's it. I'm thinking about adding an epilogue, and have a few ideas running through my mind. If you are satisfied with it as is, go ahead and let me know. If you have ideas for what you'd like to see in an epilogue, go ahead and tell me those, too. I happily take requests, and sometimes even make them happen. ;-)


End file.
